


This One Time At Band Camp...

by Smiles4U2



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Bullying, Developing Friendships, Falling In Love, First Crush, Fluff, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Musical Instruments, Musical References, Musicals, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Poor Life Choices, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Slash, Rating: PG13, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiles4U2/pseuds/Smiles4U2
Summary: When Viktor Nikiforov, sensational singer, musical prodigy, and winner of America’s Got Talent, is beat out for the lead role in the summer intermediate musical theatre production at Interlochen Arts Camp by his youngest cabin-mate, the soft-spoken, doe-eyed Yuuri Katsuki, all hell breaks loose. With Viktor facing pressure from the other boys in the cabin to ‘get revenge’ for Yuuri daring to usurp his role, the so-called living legend must decide what to do as he falls for the target of his rivalry.A (very) slow-burn (moderately age-appropriate, pre-slash) fic in which Viktor isn’t the jerk everybody thinks he is; Yuuri is an anxiety-ridden cinnamon roll; drama queen JJ is the narcissistic cabin bully; fashionista and costume designer extraordinaire Phichit is a menace; and flirtatious dance major Chris only wants to help!Will Viktor be able to break down the barriers that keep he and Yuuri apart before their six-week session runs out?





	1. Arriving

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> After recently joining the wonderful world of Yuri!!! On Ice fan fiction and reading many of your contributions, I decided to try my hand at writing something. All constructive and kind suggestions welcome. 
> 
> Updates will be extremely slow, as I would like to gage your interest in the proposed idea before committing to a writing/posting schedule.
> 
> Of course, I sadly own neither Yuri!!! on Ice nor Interlochen. 
> 
> :)

Turning thirteen had only solidified for Viktor how different he was. Growing up in the backwaters of St. Petersburg and moving to LA for his dad’s job hadn’t afforded Viktor the chance to make many friends, not that he would have wanted to spend time with those his own age anyway. Viktor wasn’t selfish – he just knew he was talented on a level that his peers couldn’t match. Viktor was consumed by the fierce need to prove himself, to show his family that he was worthy of their faith, love, and financial investment in his singing career. 

Viktor began voice lessons at the age of four, when his parents found him jamming out to the title track of Mamma Mia in the booster seat of his family’s grungy van. By the age of five, he was studying privately with the esteemed Yakov Feltsman, preparing for his first conservatory classical voice examination, and registering to compete in national competitions. Winning America’s Got Talent at the age of ten as a recent immigrant had solidified Viktor’s global celebrity status. His first hit song, “Stammi Vicino,” had been released the following year on LP and he had since acquired more money than he or his parents knew what to do with. Steadily, his collection of certifications, medals, and prizes grew… but just as quickly, Viktor was becoming immune to the joy that singing, that winning, had first brought to him.

While others attributed the problem to Viktor’s family, claiming that they had simply put too much pressure on their boy and burdened his fragile vocal chords with the crushing weight of their expectations, Viktor knew it wasn’t their fault. They had given him everything they could. And Viktor did not want to grow to resent the gift he’d been given. So, rather than stop singing entirely, something needed to change and Viktor needed to be the one to make it happen.

When a brochure for a mythical place called “Interlochen” mysteriously falls into his voice binder one fine day after a particularly gruelling lesson – Yakov was trying to 'iron' out his passagio in preparation for his voice to drop– Viktor does not hesitate to run right home, brochure clutched tight in hand. After completing some feverish research on the internet – where he learns that this place with the Swedish name was, in fact, located in Michigan in the United States AND that he needs to audition AND that a lot of (other) famous people have studied there–, Viktor runs right into his father’s office, clutching the completed application and hastily recorded audition track in his sweaty hands, and triumphantly announces in front of the entirety of his father’s head-honcho board of directors that he, Viktor Nikiforov, is going to study at Interlochen (***Jazz hands***). 

Ok, maybe it hadn’t been quite that dramatic a moment for anybody except Viktor… but he is damn excited to travel by himself for the first time and actually meet other people his own age with similar interests. The others at his private school were comparatively bland, and he had already sight-sung all of the solfedge by his piano multiple times, just to give himself something to do after school.

After receiving his (not at all unexpected) acceptance letter (and a small scholarship to boot!), Viktor waves a tearful goodbye at the airport to his overbearing mother, his exasperated father, and his overexcited poodle Makkachin and boards a Delta flight with more clothes, books, sheet music, and puppy plushies than he knows what to do with. He is ready to take on the world!

....And so, that’s how he’d ended up here - lying on his back on the most uncomfortably lumpy mattress he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter in Cabin 13 of the boy’s Intermediate division at Interlochen Arts Camp. Wearing itchy blue knickers of all things (because apparently it was a uniform requirement – yes, the older boys had said it was mandatory), Viktor loses himself in a silent run through of a particularly challenging excerpt from Handel's Messiah.

Too caught up in the melodies swirling beneath his fingertips, Viktor fails to notice the boys of his cabin trickingly in, choosing bunk -beds and -mates, setting up said bunks, talking to said mates, and then proceeding to ogle and whisper about Viktor behind his back. Finally, one brave teen with perfectly spiked brown hair emphasized with blond highlights decides to risk it. He grasps the wooden bed poles, hoists himself up with the lithe upper body strength of a dancer, and settles comfortably on the end of Viktor’s bed. 

The newcomer clears his throat, and Viktor looks up, dazed, from the alto line of the final "Hallelujah". 

“I’d know that pretty face and dazzling smile anywhere. You must be Viktor Nikiforov. I’m Chris, Christophe Giacometti,” the boy says smoothly, with a wiggle of his perfectly waxed eyebrows.

Startled by the new body on his bed, but pleased that somebody is treating him like a fairly normal human being, Viktor replies, “Hey Chris. It is great to meet you. No need for the formality - please, just call me Viktor. What will you be studying while you’re here?”

Chris blinks twice, surprised that Viktor actually wants to talk to him. With all of the gossip about the singer’s hotheadedness swirling in the tabloids, He’d been so sure the singer would think all of his cabin mates were beneath him. Chris is pleased to find that isn’t the case.

Chris makes himself comfortable, lying back across Viktor’s plentiful puppy plushies with an exaggeratedly contented sigh. With a flick of his manicured hand, Chris replies, “Dance, obviously. This will be my third summer at Interlochen. Can’t you tell by my perfect figure, devilish good looks, and innate charm?”

“Ha. Um, er yeah. Definitely,” Viktor agrees, a bit uncomfortable with the boy's obvious attempts at flirting. While he often receives over-amorous letters from adoring fans, his PR agents mostly takes care of it and he hasn’t encountered anyone this forward in a while. 

Noticing his obvious discomfort, Chris changes tactics fast, moving to examine the sheet music spread across Viktor’s lap.

“Whatcha got there, Viktor?”

“Oh. It is just some choral music the camp director sent me. I’m still undecided between the senior choral program and the intermediate musical theater program, so they’ve offered me places in both until I choose. I’m leaning more towards IMT, but I didn’t want to be unprepared in case I changed my mind.”

Chris’ eyebrows travel up his forehead until they are almost hidden in his hairline. 

“Wow! They don’t do that for just anyone. You must be pretty damn special.”

Viktor chuckles lightly, disguising his unease with confidence, just like always, with a swift “That’s what they tell me.”

After a semi-awkward pause, in which neither one of them quite knows what to say, Chris speaks up. “Well, we shouldn’t just sit up here, being anti-social. Come meet everybody before dinner! They won’t say it to your face, but they are dying to get to know you!”

At Chris’ words, an eerie silence falls over the wooden cabin, all of the boys who had previously been teasing each other and reminiscing about their school years snapping to attention. Almost unconsciously, they form a semi-circle facing Viktor’s bunk, preparing for formal introductions. 

Only one boy, dark-haired and bespectacled in chunky blue frames, eyes the scene appraisingly from his corner bunk, too shy to move out of the darkness and join the others. Wrapped in an ugly Christmas sweater despite the sweltering heat of the cabin and the seasonal incongruence, Yuuri Katsuki, intermediate musical theatre major, shyly hides behind his score of Oliver!, eavesdropping. He releases a slow sigh, remiss that his cabinmates can introduce themselves to his idol with the kind of confidence Yuuri can only summon under hot stage lights.

Seeing that he isn't going to get any more reviewing done in the immediate future, Viktor packs up his sheet music and sticks it in the black-and-white 'treble maker' tote hanging off the end of his bunk. Consumed by the flurries of activity before him, Viktor remains ignorant of the silent presence in the corner.

Suddenly, there are three bodies instead of two on Viktor’s mattress. The bunk groans ominously from added weight, as a beaming, round-faced boy snuggles up to Viktor’s other side.

Talking at a mile-a-minute, the boy exclaims with delight, “Hey Viktor! I’m Phichit Chulanot, but you can call me Peaches because nobody foreign ever says my name right anyway. I’m from Thailand, but I’ve been a huuuuuuuuge fan of your music for a while now! You are SO talented bro. Oh, and I’ll be drawing and painting while I’m here, but if you need advice on fashion or costumes, I’ve got you covered,” the boy says, finishing up with a wink. “Oooh! Also, let’s do a selfie! You don’t mind, do you?” he questions while already reaching for his hamster-encased i-phone and snapping the pic. 

A bit taken aback, Viktor plasters on his brilliant fake smile reserved for media purposes just as the blinding flash goes off. 

From his corner, Yuuri shakes his head at Peaches’ brashness, smirking slightly. His best friend never was one for following camp rules, especially when it came to the ban on cellphones. He always whines that maintaining his social media accounts for his followers is more important.

Unconcerned by or unaware of the effect he is having on the other boy, Peaches continues making introductions, “These are Seung-Gil, Leo, and Guang. Seung sings, obvi, Leo plays the trumpet, and Guang is a creative writing major,” pointing out the others within earshot of the bed.

Just then, there is a scuffle at the front of the cabin. The boys of Cabin 13 fall silent as the door bangs open to reveal a scrawny blond kid, his brows furrowed as he quivers with pent up rage.

Clearly in the middle of an ongoing conversation (if you could even call it that), the kid indignantly exclaims “JJ, not everything is goddamn JJ-style! You aren’t even the most famous kid in this cabin.” 

“What’s it to you, Plisetsky? It isn’t like anybody cares who you are,” JJ snarks. “Now, get out of my way! You aren’t even supposed to be here. You belong in the junior division, kitten.”

“Screw you, asshole! I was just coming to see Viktor, but whatever. LOSER!” the Blondie screeches as he slams the door of their cabin shut with a bang loud enough to send a nearby flock of nesting birds airborne. 

The boys glance at each other hesitantly as JJ makes his grand entrance. 

“Hi gents. I’m JJ, as I’m sure you all know. Oh, and everyone knows who you are, of course. You’re Viktor Nikiforov, aka practically the Harry Potter of our cabin. Hey, speaking of Russians, do you know that Yuri pipsqueak?” Though Viktor opened his mouth to reply to JJ’s question and tell him that he is an American now (thank you very much), and that Yuri also studies with his voice teacher, it doesn't exactly seem that JJ is interested in his answer. 

As JJ begins to drone on and on about his many awards as a model and his prowess as an all purpose entertainer, Viktor whispers to Chris, “I guess its going to be a long night. Might as well break out the snacks?”

Chris grimaces, not denying it, since he’s had the misfortune of being JJ’s cabinmate the previous summer. He lightly jumps off Viktor’s bunk, intending to fetch a bag of popcorn for the inevitable (and unstoppable) show that is JJ-style. 

With an slight, affirmative nod to Phichit across the cabin, Yuuri packs away his score, and grabs his towel and shower bucket. 

Viktor looks up, eyes meeting for the first time with the mysterious bottom corner bunk boy. Barely sparing Viktor a glance, Yuuri trots off with his shower supplies. Struck by something just below the surface in Yuuri's eyes, Viktor idly wonders if maybe they will be friends.

Viktor’s magical summer of self-discovery has begun!


	2. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor, Yuuri, and the crew experience their first full day at Interlochen. 
> 
> Plenty of shenanigans, including placement auditions, ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings New AO3 Friends!
> 
> Please enjoy another chapter of TOTABC. :) 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me so far. I do hope that you enjoy. 
> 
> Much love (and best wishes for the holiday season if you celebrate),
> 
> \- Smiles
> 
> P.S. As a first time fan fic writer, I am realizing that it is really exciting to receive kudos and comments. If you haven't yet had the chance to chime in, I would love to hear from you. I will do my best to incorporate your suggestions if they work in the story outline, and to respond to each of you individually.

The next day dawns cool and crisp and much too early to the blaring sound of his cabin mate Leo’s bugle calls. Apparently rousing the troops to the jarring dissonance of a poorly tuned trumpet is an antiquated camp tradition, one that the powers-that-be refuse to scrap, despite how obnoxious it is. And poor Leo, having to wake up earlier than the rest of them and finagle some early morning breath support just to do his duty…

After rolling out of bed – or utterly off of it, as Viktor does after forgetting that he has chosen a top bunk – the campers dress in their mandatory blue shorts, garish red knee-high socks, and scratchy red sweaters and line up to take turns brushing up at the two sinks at the back of the cabin.

Bleary-eyed and yawning, the boys of Cabin 13 then stumble towards Lochaven dining hall, with their newly appointed counsellor (and camp radio manager) Otabek Altin leading the way. Viktor slows behind the pack, making sure to peak through dusty practice cabin windows and mentally note the locations of those with the most appealing baby grands.

Upon their arrival at the dining hall, the teens help themselves to an assortment of porridge, eggs, and breakfast cereals from the buffet, as their unit head Celestino Cialdini hands each of them their personalized schedules. Viktor is the only camper to receive two options.

Once all of the schedules have been passed out, Celestino claps his hands together, calling for their attention. In his Italian-inflected baritone, he declares, “Alright boys, I hope you slept well. For those of you who are new, welcome to Interlochen! And for those of you returning, well, you know the drill. On each of your papers, you’ll find your daily schedules. Today is a bit special because most of the programs have placement auditions over the next two days. I hope you’ve been practicing, since there won’t be much time for you to use the practice rooms and most of the seniors will have reserved them by now anyway. Don’t worry too much about the placements. Since you were all accepted, the instructors have already considered each of your abilities and are looking forward to having you in your respective programs. Before I let you go, I’ll take you on a brief tour to get you acquainted with the grounds.”

As Celestino concludes his impromptu speech, most of the intermediate boys hurriedly clean off their plates and dump their trays. Stretching to heightened levels of wakefulness, they allow Celestino to lead them from the dining hall. 

Now that he’s truly awake, Viktor can barely keep his puppy-dog levels of excitement contained. Bouncing and practically vibrating with every step, Viktor matches Celestino’s lengthy gait. Even Chris, his newly self-appointed Interlochen guru, has to hurry to keep up.

“Chris! Chris! Where is main camp? Have you been to Bud’s before? I hear that their grilled cheese sandwiches are to DIE for!”

“Slow down, mon cherie. This is main camp. Bud’s is basically my saviour while I’m here, but I can’t eat too many of those sandwiches, in case they damage my danseur’s figure. Plus, it isn’t technically on camp property, so we always need a staff escort. It sucks, but what can you do, right?” 

Viktor barely takes a moment to process Chris’ response before he is ploughing headfirst into his next series of questions.

“Oh, is it true that Niki Minage is playing at Corson auditorium next week!? Or am I confusing that hall with the bigger one, what’s it called again? But most importantly, did you buy your ticket yet? Oh, have you met the prima ballerina and instructor Lilia Baranovskya? I’ve heard she’s incredible!”

Chris sighs in fond exasperation, thinking to himself that he never expected THE Viktor to be so adorable when he’s excited about something, and replies slyly, “I wouldn’t miss the chance to hear another Niki sing, but she’ll be playing Kresge auditorium because it’s bigger. Many people from Traverse City and the surrounding area will probably be present. And I actually worked with Lilia last year; I was one of her protégées.” 

As Viktor blathers on about one of the record deals he’s interested in taking on after camp ends, Chris allows a Cheshire cat smile to spread slowly across his face… He is quite keen on upholding the camp tradition of throwing newbies into Green Lake at the end of the tour. Despite the pollution that makes it hazardous to swim on a regular basis, the boys have figured it is a fine thing to do temporarily and a great form of hazing. Chris can’t wait to get THE Viktor Nikiforov wet! 

\--

Later, as Viktor splutters to the water’s surface fully clothed after landing with a giant splash and claws his sopping wet silvery locks out of his nose and mouth, a bunch of the other boys jump in to join him of their own volition. 

After tossing in Phichit (but graciously allowing Celestino to take his phone and selfie stick first), JJ turns to reach for whoever is left on the dock. His gaze narrows on poor Yuuri, who, partially hidden behind Celestino, is the only member of their cabin to still remain dry. 

Knowing he is next on JJ’s hit list, Katsuki pointedly offers JJ the coldest glare he can muster. JJ, not expecting such a look from someone as innocent as Yuuri, immediately raises his hands in submission. Taking a step back to give Yuuri space, JJ accidentally stumbles at the edge of the dock and lands himself in the freezing water with a resounding splash. Coughing wetly, JJ resurfaces, only to catch a glimpse of possibly the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on laughing at his expense, having clearly just seen the evidence of his ineptitude. JJ blushes to his ears, almost wanting to cry in frustration as the-most-beautiful-girl-on-earth masks an obvious giggle at his expense, and resumes gliding around the lake with her cabinmates. He hopes she’s also a theater major.

After JJ’s misfortune, nobody dares to threaten Katsuki with the lake again.

\--

Once they’ve had a chance to dry off and change back at the cabin, most of the boys grab their instruments and sheet music, and trek out to find free practice rooms. 

Viktor, having decided to commit to the musical theater program after learning about its slightly elevated prestige (in comparison to his other option, the Choral and Operetta senior program), stops by the camp director’s office to let them know of his decision. 

What he doesn’t expect is to run into Yakov, who he hadn’t heard was going to be returning to his alma mater as a voice coach this summer. He’d heard rumors that Yakov himself had at one time (probably way back in the dark ages, Viktor snorts to himself fondly) played Gaston in a High School production of Beauty and the Beast; last night, as they’d listened to JJ’s rant, Chris had promised Viktor that he could get his hands on a bootleg recording of Yakov’s production, in exchange for a backup calling card and a Ziploc baggie of those scrumptious oatmeal cookies... or were they called peanut-butter no-bakes?... from the dining hall.

Snapping out his reverie, Viktor smiles at Yakov and thanks him for all of the tips he’d shared about the audition experience. To avoid seemingly playing favorites, Yakov looks both ways, then offers Viktor a gruff pat on the back and a muttered wish for him to “break a leg” tomorrow at his audition. Viktor smiles, knowing that deep in Yakov’s heart (and under the toupee which covers his balding head), he only wants what is best for his prized student.

A couple of minutes later, after duking it out with a cellist for one of the few remaining practice cubicles with uprights (sadly, all of the huts with baby grands have already been claimed), Viktor warms up with a few scales and plunks his way through the bass line of his audition pieces. Checking the placement of his neck, shoulders, and jaw in the handy mirror leaning against the far wall, Viktor allows a small smile to grace his fine features.

Viktor can feel it! Tomorrow is going to be an incredible day!

\---

Viktor leaves his audition for the intermediate musical Oliver! with a wide, heart-shaped grin. The looks of bemusement on the panel’s faces as he had belted out the extended “AHHHHH!!!” of “Johnny One Note” from Babes in Arms, followed by his second selection, a jazzy rendition of “On the Streets, Where You Live,” is enough proof that he has just killed the audition. 

His monologue reading from Clark Gesner’s You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown had gone smoothly enough, earning him a few laughs when he’d got into character. He'd appropriately mourned his inability to get noticed by the gal of his dreams and subsequently pulled a makeshift brown paper lunch-bag over his head in embarrassment at his crush finally noticing him, as Charlie was wont to do. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F733_9Y3_pc]

(Of course, Viktor knew that, in real life, he would never actually crush on a girl, but if he summoned the eyes of a certain dark-haired, bespectacled boy from his cabin, he could get the sentiments just right. Judging from the panel’s titters, it seemed he had succeeded). 

Even the short dance number they’d taught to the group to an excerpt from the title song of 42nd street had also been nothing short of old hat. 

Throwing open the door of the audition room, Viktor offers (what possibly comes off as) a condescending smirk to the next girl in line, who is practically vibrating with suppressed nerves. Her dark blue knee-highs and matching lanyard reveal her status as a camp junior. 

Practice bag thrown casually over his left shoulder, Viktor struts out of the lobby and in the direction of his cabin. He absentmindedly thinks he should write his parents a thank you letter for training him to become a quadruple threat as soon as they’d realized his talent for singing. 

\--

… But several hours later, when Viktor elbows his way to the front of the crowd after hearing that the casting list for Oliver! has been posted outside his unit-head’s cabin, he’s in for a bit of a shock. 

The blood drains from Viktor’s face as he searches further and further down the list for his name. 

For the first time in his life, Viktor’s name isn’t at the top of the list. 

He hasn’t been cast as the lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... dum dum dum!
> 
> Cliff-hanger! Hurray!
> 
> Next time, we'll see an official copy of the Oliver! cast list and also how our protagonists react to the news!


	3. Surprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long-awaited cast list and reactions from some of our performers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey new friends,
> 
> I'm back with a new chapter of TOTABC. :)
> 
> Please note that there are deliberately no OCs in this universe who are not famous people IRL and also real alumni of Interlochen. 
> 
> I did this because:  
> (1) throwing in OCs apparently messes with my mojo,  
> (2) it is kind of neat to think about having the opportunity to perform with a super famous person, even if it just in the guise of a fan fic, and  
> (3) because I can. 
> 
> Also, certain characters who did not have last names (i.e. Anya) or those whose last names were only listed according to marriage (i.e. Yuuko) were creatively gifted with new surnames. Oh god(desse)s of Yuri!!! On Ice, please forgive me for I have (possibly?) sinned.
> 
> Anyway, let’s get on with it. Enjoy!

Roles:  
Oliver Twist- Katsuki, Yuuri  
Understudy to the Lead (Swing)- Plisetsky, Yuri  
Fagin- Feltsman, Yakov (alumni cameo)  
Nancy- Babicheva, Mila  
Mr. Brownlow- Nikola, Emil  
Bill Sikes- Leroy, Jean-Jacques  
Mr. Bumble- Plisetsky, Nikolai (alumni cameo)  
The Artful Dodger- Nikiforov, Viktor  
Charley Bates- Lee, Seung-gil  
Bet - Crispino, Sara  
Mr. Sowerberry - Rapp, Anthony (alumni cameo)  
Mrs. Sowerberry - Jones, Nora (alumni cameo)  
Mrs. Corney - Leroy, Natalie (alumni cameo)  
Charlotte Sowerberry - Ise, Yuuko  
Noah Claypole - Crispino, Michael  
Dr. Grimwig - Nishigori, Takeshi  
Mrs. Bedwin - Shelekhova, Anya (alumni cameo)  
Old Sally - Isabella Yang

Workhouse Boys/Fagin’s Gang:  
Minami, Kenjirou  
Yuuto, Omiki  
Hikaru, Fujiwara  
Plisetsky, Yuri

Adult Ensemble:  
All alumni

*Please note: all alumnis involved in the production will be offering workshops and vocal coachings to performers on a first come/first serve basis. Please see Celestino Cialdini for access to a sign up sheet.

On behalf of the production team, we look forward to working with you!

Acting Director: Georgi Popovitch  
Music Director: Ketty Abelashvii  
Choreographer: Lilia Baranovskaya

\---

Shock. Empty. Mind-numbing. Suffocating. Shock. Yuuri’s eyes move left to right. He sees it, the list, but he also does not – cannot – see it, can not believe what is right in front of his eyes.

Knowing from experience what is to come, as his palms cool, and his heart races, Yuuri breaths deeply to halt the dawning sense of immanent terror but Oh God, oh god, ohgod, ohgodohgod, ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod HOLY CRAP!

He’d just been given the lead role in the intermediate musical!

With his idol.

Wait…

INSTEAD of his idol.

WHAT had just happened? What were Georgi, Ketty, and Lilia playing at? Were they INSANE?

Who in their goddamn minds could possibly think it was a good idea to give the nobody from the sticks of Hasetsu, Japan the lead role in Interlochen’s intermediate musical? The kid who'd been shocked that he'd even received an acceptance to Interlochen? The twelve-year old dancer who had never had a voice or acting lesson in his life? The only one with terrible stage fright and an all-consuming, suffocating anxiety complex? This was a huge ass deal. This was a disaster, this was a---

“Breathe Yuuri! 1, 2, 3, deep breath in, deep breath out,” sighs a familiar voice, dredging Yuuri out of his silent state of desperate panic.

There is a hand on his shoulder, and soft, reassuring voices in his ear, muttering words of support and faith and encouragement.

“…must have sung a really incredible audition”  
“…so proud…”  
“… that someone from our little Hasetsu got the lead!”

It is then that Yuuri realizes he is on the ground, head between his knees, with Phichit, Yuuko, and Takeshi surrounding him. The other campers have backed off to give the four of them some space, as they try to bring Yuuri out of his horrified trance and back to himself.

“What are five things you hear, Yuuri?,” Yuuko softly asks.

“M-my heart, your breathe, t-the wind in the trees, laughter, a violin.”

Unconsciously, his breathing and heart rate slow. He slowly unfurls himself from the ball he’d been wound in, opens his eyes, and turns to his best friend.

“Peaches, what am I going to do?!”

\--

“Hey princess, who’d you have to bribe to get a lead role in the intermediate musical? Aren’t you, like, five?” JJ shoots off with a smirk, as he swoops his coiffed hairdo out of his eyes, and picks daintily at his salad.

Yuri shudders with pent up rage, releasing puffs of air through his nose to slow his heart rate and dropping his fork with a clatter. He wants to tackle the guy, but he knows that, given his size and the assortment of rather wet items on his dining tray, that probably won’t end well. Better to pull out the barbed tongue instead.

“What’s it to you, asshole? At least they got your casting right. They made you the villain,” huffs Yuri, a tad smug.

JJ shrugs, feigning blasé about the whole thing and reaches for his chocolate milk. “Eh. At least it’s a lead. They probably thought it was cute to have two Yuris playing Oliver. Now they don’t even need to remember whose who, not that I’m complaining. Then again, we probably won’t even be seeing you on the stage. Being an understudy sucks – all that hard work for so little pay-“

As Yuri loses what little cool he has and attempts to launch himself into a running kick-leap at JJ, he feels a sharp tug to the back of his light blue uniform shirt.

“It’s not worth it,” a voice says firmly into his left ear.

Yuri huffs, pissed at whoever has the gall to interfere with his well-deserved payback. He wants to teach this jerk a lesson.

Finally, he looks up, to meet dark eyes and a stoic expression.

“Come with me, Yuri,” the older teen says softly and insistently.

Realizing that he won’t get to enjoy his vegetable soup if he carries out his ill-considered plan of action, Yuri rises with a puff, grabs his tray, slings his music satchel over his shoulder, and with a last glare in JJ’s direction, moves to follow the older boy.

Yuri supposes this guy can’t be any worse than his current lunch companion.

The blond and his acquaintance make their way through the sea of blue- and red-clad bodies, coming to a stop in an emptier part of the dining hall.

“Thanks,” mutters Yuri self-consciously.

“It isn’t a problem,” replies the boy, who digs into his jello cup with something like pleasure – its kind of hard to tell how the guy’s feeling, Yuri thinks, because his expression only shifts minutely.

Figuring he should at least try to make conversation with the guy who stopped him from getting in a fistfight, Yuri begins with little tact, “So wait, how’d you know my name? And who the hell are you?”

The kid looks up, something akin to surprise registering across his face for a moment, before dropping his spoon and throwing out his hand, “Sorry about that. I just assumed, since I’d seen you near the Cabin I council. I’m Otabek Altin.”

“Yuri Plisetsky, but you already know that,” replies Yuri with a grunt, as reaches to take the proffered hand.

“I also manage Interlochen’s radio channel, while my kids are in their programs,” Altin continues, releasing Yuri’s hand and resuming his dessert.

“Your kids,” Yuri snorts fondly, “Aren’t you barely older than them?”

“Ah, yeah, I suppose. I’m eighteen. I’m kind of doing my uncle a favour by counselling, since it isn’t really my thing,” Altin continues, spearing a piece of pineapple casually.

“So, what is a dude like you doing with someone like me?” Yuri wonders out loud. It wouldn’t do to get too attached to this guy, only to have it backfire in his face later, he thinks to himself.

“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you. I heard your Oliver! audition from outside the auditorium, since I was running errands for Georgi yesterday. You are insanely talented. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about before I broke up whatever that was between you and JJ earlier. From what I could hear, you really committed to the emotions you were trying to convey in your audition piece. It was “Giants in the Sky”, right? From Sondheim’s _Into the Woods_? That’s a hard one, I’m told.”

“Yeah.” Yuri mouths with amazement. “Damn. You know your musicals?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m not actually sure if you remember, but I was one of Yakov’s assistants in the summer workshop you did a few years back - in LA, I think? You were still pretty young. But I remembered you because of your commitment, and your eyes. You have these eyes of a soldier. You just go for what you want. It really impressed me then and, from what I saw on the casting board earlier, you’re still the same now.”

Yuri gapes at him, flattered and thrilled, and secretly a little bit embarrassed, heat rising high in his cheeks before he can supress it.

Beat.

A moment of silence.

Beat.

“So, are you going to be friends with me or not?,” Otabek demands, determination crackling in his gaze.

Without hesitation, Yuri throws down his fork and reaches towards the counsellor.

The two boys shake on their newfound friendship.

For the first time since his arrival at this godforsaken, robotic, preppy shit hole, Yuri allows himself a small smile.

Maybe, with a new friend, the rest of this summer won’t suck so hard.

\---

There’s nothing Viktor loves more than surprises.

That’s always been his motto, and a major part of the reason why he had wanted to change up his summer routine by attending Interlochen.

Viktor had spent his last school vacation in December sitting between his parents on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, sipping non-alcoholic mango daiquiris and dreaming of a future filled with excitement, with more than deferent managers, and fake smiles, and plastic people; he had dreamed of real talent, of life, and of love.

Perhaps expressing his longings for life and love at the tender age of thirteen seems a bit of a stretch. But to Viktor, a child of the stage, a drive for the wit of tongues, the spark of ability, and the surety of musical purpose, talent seemed damn near inseparable from life and love.

Viktor sometimes wonders if he’s spent the past several years living underwater; puckered mouths move all around him, the sharks – his fans - barring their fangs and moving to tear at his flesh with the weight of their adoration and anticipations…. and still all Viktor feels is vague boredom. He just wants to be surprised, to come across someone his own age with enough talent to knock his socks off and cause his jaw to drop, and shake up his life in such a way that it will never be the same again.

It seems that this unspoken wish is about to come true.

Because now, he’s here. And there is this incredible, vivid, oh-so-real opportunity to learn, to be challenged, and to see what this Katsuki, Yuuri can teach him about performance, about art …about himself.

As Viktor turns around to head back to his cabin, whistling through his teeth, he smiles the first truly genuine smile he’s smiled in ages. Yakov is going to make a hilarious Fagin. “Oh, you’ve got to pick a pocket or two, boooooooyyyyy!”

…And Viktor cannot wait to meet Yuuri Katsuki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for Yuri’s language. That’s part of the reason I marked the story “Teen and Up”. Sometimes, the characters just write themselves. He’s one cheeky, swear-y eleven year old. But that’s why we love him, right?
> 
> Comments? Suggestions? Ideas? Hit me up! Kind + constructive feedback appreciated. ☺


	4. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor deals with the fallout of the casting decisions. Oliver rehearsals begin. Viktor formally meets the object of his fascination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there,
> 
> I've attached examples of the vocal warm-ups sung by the cast, in case you're interested. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this chapter update. If you do, I'd love to hear from you via comments or kudos. 
> 
> :)

The news that THE Viktor Nikiforov will be playing the Artful Dodger rather than the title character in the intermediate production of _Oliver!_ spreads like wildfire across the camp.

Courtesy of Phichit, every social media platform is buzzing with the news (even though most of the other campers don’t have access to their social media platforms, since they actually bother to follow the camp rules…)

Anyway, back in Cabin 13, tensions are running high. The cabin has effectively split into two opposing factums, with frictions bubbling just beneath the surface and all-out war threatening to erupt at any moment.

What Viktor doesn’t understand is why.

 Why, when he finally stumbles back into the cabin after lunch, JJ bothers to stop boasting about his female conquests in order to clap him on the back and stage-whisper a consolatory “Don’t worry about it buddy, we’ll get ‘em next time.”

 Why Phichit, Leo, Seung, and Ji are crammed onto Phichit’s bunk, muttering quickly and quietly under their breaths while pausing to offer him dirty looks every couple of minutes.

 Why he finds all of his carefully-packed snacks from home thoroughly picked over, his stamps gone, and whiteout he doesn’t own marring his usually meticulously-kept practice binder, when he accidentally leaves it out on his bunk one evening.

 Why the sweet brown-eyed boy from the corner drops his sandwich, lets out a frightened squeak, and high-tails it out of the cabin before he even has a chance to ask for his name.

 For the love of Merlin’s pants, why are these kids getting so worked up on his behalf over a part he’s perfectly happy with and a probably-very-talented kid he’s never met?

 --

 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U7UGKbBnbE)

 “Mama made me mash my eminems!” the kids resound in earnest.

 “And again, up half a tone!” proclaims Ketty from behind the piano.

 “Mama made me mash my eminems!”

 “I can’t hear you!”

 “Mama made me mash my eminems!”

 “Ok, that’s enough of that,” Ketty wraps the exercise up with a well-practiced flourish on the final cadence, and establishes a new key for the next warm up.

 “How about this one? I love to sing,” she demonstrates in a sweet soprano, “You all know it, yeah?”

(From 1:20: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Nt7muRH2tY)

 “Ahhhh lave to sing!” the students reply, diligently, Viktor among them.

 …Viktor has been looking forward to his first day of rehearsal for what feels like _ages_ , if only to escape the increasingly uncomfortable vibe in his cabin.

 He’s been making periodic visits to the smoothie booth in main camp, browsing the aisles of the scholarshop aimlessly for interlochen-themed trinkets for Makka and his parents, frequenting the practice camps closest to the lake (sans baby grands), and even sneaking off more than once to Bud’s off-campus with Chris – thankfully, one of the few kids in his cabin who doesn’t miraculously hate him overnight for no apparent reason – just to find some peace.

 Like the goody-two shoes he is, he’s even thought about broaching the awkwardness with his unit head Celestino, but he’s not sure how much good an adult’s intervention will do him.

 As Viktor’s mouth moves subconsciously to the warm ups, he allows himself to drift back to the experience of arriving at the studio, earlier in the day…

 Without meaning to, Viktor had made an entrance, though he thankfully wasn’t the first to reach the rehearsal space.

 In one corner, a couple of pre-teen girls were performing pirouettes and hamstring stretches against the ballet bar. Viktor offered Mila Babicheva a brief wave; they’d taken several dance classes together in LA and she’d always been pretty approachable.

 Other than JJ and Yuri P (who are, of course, in another heated debate about the correct age to start training young voices), the only male face Viktor recognizes is that of Seung-Gil Lee.

 Legs crossed, Seung sits ramrod straight against a wall-to-floor mirror, nose-deep in a score, and looking very much like any attempts at conversation will be most unwelcome.

 Near a set of lockers, a group of adults are chatting animatedly; they must have been some of the alumni for the camios, Viktor muses.

 Just as Viktor reminds himself to sign up for a lesson with Anthony Rapp - that would be super cool, since they could compare stretches on Broadway together – Lilia clears her throat and an oppressive silence settles over the room.

 “Well, what are you waiting for? You can’t expect us to get any work done with you all spread out like this,” she begins.

 Almost as one, the performers briskly conclude whatever activities they’ve been involved in and form a semi-circle with Lilia at its approximate center.

 Light blue scarf thrown dramatically over his shoulder like a movie ingénue, Georgi struts to the center of the circle and lays out the game plan. First they’ll do a cold script read through, followed by a group vocal warm up, and then they’ll sign up for individual voice lesson slots in the afternoon.

 The kids start to titter when Georgi loses his train of thought and goes misty-eyed while staring at an older brunette who Viktor can only assume is his ex, Anya.

 Chris had warned him about Georgi’s – sensitivity, was probably the nicest possible way of putting it. He and Anya had apparently dated way back when they were both campers, but she’d cheated on him with his best friend and he’d never quite recovered.

 Seeing that Georgi is lost to his disturbing memories and isn’t going to make it through the rest of his planned introduction, Lilia takes over, beginning to drone on and on about –

 With a BANG, the front door slams open and Viktor’s heart skips a beat. The sweet, soft-spoken boy from his cabin arrives, a couple of minutes late and a tad out of breath.

 “So sorry!” he huffs, “I got lost.” The boy pushes his blue glasses back up his sweaty nose, throws down his rehearsal bag, and performs three neat little bows in the directions of Ketty, Lilia, and Georgi respectively.

 “That’s quite alright, Mr. Katsuki.” Lilia replies, “But it would do you well as our leading man to arrive promptly to all rehearsals going forward.”

 “Of course, Ms. Baranovskaya. I won’t let it happen again,” Yuuri turns puce.

 Viktor gapes like a fish.

 Cinnamon bun = Yuuri Katsuki = Oliver!

 This day just keeps on getting better and better…


	5. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through an extended foray into Yuuri’s perspective for the first time, we see it all a little bit differently.
> 
> Also, Viktor finds new inspiration!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for the launching of the very distraught Yuuri Katsuki space shuttle in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
> 
> This is probably the last seriously angsty chapter (for a while).
> 
> You’re welcome. 
> 
> Also, please take a moment to listen to the attached piece. I promise you won’t be disappointed. The fic was basically inspired by a compact disc version of the song that I’ve had since childhood.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Bullying, Anxiety, General Angst.

It is the ninth day of camp, and Yuuri is suffocating.

Rehearsals for _Oliver!_ are in full-swing, which isn’t the problem. Yuuri’s always liked rehearsals. He finds the predictable nature of the cold runs and the memorizing and the constant movement soothing on his aching nerves.

In fact, Yuuri _loves_ these rehearsals. Georgi is a peculiar combination of melodramatic and completely professional, Ketty is an incredibly talented accompanist, and Ms. Baranovskya - he dare not call her Lilia- is strict in a way that reminds him of his beloved dance teacher Okukawa, Minako from home.

Moving on a tight schedule, in a little less than a week they’ve blocked the entirety of Act I, including the full cast number “Food, Glorious Food.” Midway through rehearsal yesterday, Phichit and his team had marched in to show the ooh-ing and aah-ing cast their costume sketches, props, and the plans for the elaborate set, complete with an intricate fly system and rotating platform.

Yuuri had been grateful for the momentary distraction.

Ketty also hasn’t made him sing any of his solos in public yet, for which Yuuri is very appreciative. He figures that she’s waiting to see how his first ever voice lesson goes with the very intimidating Yakov Feltsman.

It is scheduled for tonight, after dinner.

No, rehearsal and everything that goes with it really is wonderful. It has become his refuge.

For Yuuri, the pressure is on more so outside of practice than during it.

Though Minako, his sister Mari, and his friends Takeshi and Yuuko had always told him that Interlochen was this incredible, safe space where he could be himself, where he’d gain mountains of confidence, and flourish like a weed even though he felt like an outsider everywhere else he’d ever been, they were all horrific liars.

From the moment the cast list had gone up, Yuuri’s world had steadily come crashing down around him.

Post-panic attack, Yuuri had stumbled to his feet in a daze, thankful for Phichit and Yuuko’s comforting arms around him and Takeshi’s silent presence at the rear of their odd little procession.

It was like gravity had moved, only in a terrible way. Yuuri could practically feel the eyes of the other campers on him, whispering behind their hands, taunting him, expecting him to fail, now that he had so publically lost control of himself.

Yuuri knew they were right. He was a nobody that didn’t even deserve to be here.

Interlochen was a place for stars, not for the likes of him.

The dark turn of his thoughts was only vindicated upon his return to his cabin that day.

When his friends had hesitantly waved goodbye outside his cabin, and he’d entered with Phichit in tow, the atmosphere he’d walked into was pin-drop silent and colder than ice.

Finally, Leo fixed him with a calculating gaze. Was that _pity_ Yuuri could see in his eyes?

“So its true, then? The rumours about your part?” Leo hedged, hesitantly.

“Ye-eah.” Yuuri replied, failing to mask his stutter.

“Congrats, dude,” Leo countered, but to Yuuri, his words sounded hollow.

“Oh look, it’s O-li-ver,” JJ sing-songed snidely, sharply quoting the musical and prancing around the cabin with a gaudy flourish.

“Make way, make way. Roll out the red carpet! Wouldn’t want to injure our precious protagonist,” JJ sniggered to himself.

“Shut up, JJ,” Phichit boldly jumped in. “Nobody asked you for your opinions.”

“It will never last,” JJ retorted, “They’re going to realize they cast a little piggy in the part, when the lead is supposed to be starving in an orphanage, and they’ll reconsider.”

Yuuri’s cheeks instantly heated in embarrassment and silent tears slid down his cheeks. Nothing JJ said was surprising to Yuuri. He was only verbally confirming everything Yuuri already knew everyone else was thinking.

He’d often struggled to maintain an average weight, and while his parents had assured him it would even out once he finally went through puberty, his pudgy belly was still one of the many things he truly hated about himself.

“Come on, Yuuri. Let’s go to lunch,” Phichit had demanded, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and shooting a very uncharacteristic glower in JJ’s direction.

Only Seung-Gil hadn’t bothered to react. He simply hung upside down off of his top bunk with a bored expression on his face, taking the opportunity to text freely while the counsellor was out.

And that had only been day one.

Yuuri’s in-cabin experiences during the next eight days had steadily worsened, culminating with the stuffing of a rotting grilled cheese sandwich under his pillow and the defacement of his prized stuffed puppy, Chihoko. Yuuri had had the plushie since he was a little boy, and it was the only piece of his childhood bedroom he’d brought with him.

Though Phichit had been his loyal advocate through it all, lending him new sheets (since laundry collection was still several days away) and offering to stitch up Chihoko to the best of his ability at the costume shop, it hardly improved Yuuri’s mood at all. He missed his mom and dad and his sweet dog, Vicchan.

Ramming back the awful memories of the last couple of days, Yuuri hastily packs a go bag with his score, music binder, and water bottle.

Yuuri decides he’ll go find his sister, where she’s working with his counsellor, Otabek, at the radio station and then fit in some practice before his lesson with Yakov. Maybe the comforting feel of her arms and the smell of her cheap, contraband cigarettes will help him feel a bit more comfortable.

Other than Mari, Peaches, Yuuko, and Takeshi, the rest of the people here are vindictive, careless, and self-serving. They are cruel.

Yuuri just wants to go home.

 

\---

Viktor is treading the well-worn path back to his cabin after a long day of rehearsals, idly wondering what the dining hall will be serving that night, when he hears it …

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FjjWrlh2mg

… a voice that stops his entire world, and puts it back together, more wholesome and beautiful than it has ever been before.

It is high and sweet, so different than the brassy musical theatre sound he is steadily growing used to. It exudes innocence and melancholic loneliness. It makes his heart hurt. 

Desperate to know the person able to create such an angelic sound, Viktor creeps steadily closer to the lone practice cabin.

Now that he thinks about it, he knows the song. It is an Italian classic “Lascia ch’io pianga” from the opera _Rinaldo_ , one he himself had sung in his early days of classical voice training with Yakov. 

The singer’s diction could use a bit of work, but the clarity and emotion exuded through their voice alone is impossible to be taught.

The aria’s lyrics, a pleading lament for freedom and mercy from unending cruelty, tug at Viktor’s core. Can the singer really be as distressed as they sound?

It is probably a soprano in the classical voice program, Viktor reasons. Who else would practice so earnestly, after what could only have been an already long day of rehearsals? Girls always need to fight so much harder for their shot than boys, Yakov says, since there are so many capable sopranos and so few parts to go around.

Wishing to satisfy his curiosity once and for all before getting on with his day, Viktor peers through the grimy window.

His breath catches in his throat, all his thoughts coming to a grinding halt.

It is a boy.

No. It is _him_.

The child who can sing with such earnestness, with an unparalleled sweetness and a shockingly raw honesty is _Yuuri Katsuki_.

He’s a boy soprano.

Yuuri’s face glows in the dim light of the practice room, his posture perfect and breath uniform, even as tears slide silently down his soft cheeks.

Scores, pencils, erasers, and water bottles litter the stand and upright piano in front of him, but it is the sheet music that draws Viktor’s attention. The black and white pages are covered in handwriting that Viktor can just make out from his perch at the window: check marks for breaths, circles around challenging leaps, demands for smoothness, a second layer of hastily-scrawled text translation, and a third layer of childishly penned, one-word motivators – sadness, love, suffering, desire.

This isn’t just some dime-a-dozen singer. With the drive this kid has got, he could be the real deal – a really BIG deal!

Viktor knows Yakov would _love_ to have this hard-worker as one of his students.

Although he is unaccompanied, Viktor can hear the sounds of an orchestra as Yuuri sings. The child _is_ the music.

No wonder he’d been cast as Oliver. Now that he had heard Yuuri’s voice and felt his aura, Viktor can’t imagine anyone better for the part. There is no one in the whole of the camp who is more innocent yet more deserving.

He, Yuuri, is an incredible find. Clearly untrained, but capable and so endearingly lovely, both in sound and body, none-the-less. Viktor idly wonders how Yuuri ended up at Interlochen. He desperately wants to ask him, to know him well enough to have the privilege of requesting such personal information. 

Yuuri had been something of a mystery before, with his shy smiles and glances whenever he thought Viktor wasn’t looking. His blushes had spread high on his soft cheeks and above his ears, whenever they’d accidentally lock eyes. He must be a fan, Viktor had reasoned.

But here, in his element, thinking he is alone and out of the public eye, Yuuri is something else completely.

He is ethereal.

He is beautiful.

The final notes of the aria hang, echoing softly in the empty air.

Viktor can’t breathe.

He knows without a doubt that he’s in love with this boy.

Loath to interrupt, Viktor slips back into the shadows without making his presence known. Rather than continuing back towards his cabin or to the dining hall, he heads in an entirely different direction, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.

He needs to find a way to become close to Yuuri, to this child who radiates talent like the sun, who is shy and pure and still possesses heaps of the sweet hopefulness that Viktor himself had long lost to the punishing music industry.

Viktor has found his solnyshko, his sun, but more than that.

Yuuri Katsuki is his muse.

He needs to find a way to get the kids of Cabin 13 off of Yuuri’s back.

And he’s running out of time.

There are only a little over four weeks left before the closing ceremonies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the story and/or have suggestions/questions/must-try gluten free recipes, I would love to hear from you via a constructive comment or a kudos!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! 
> 
> \- :)


	6. Connecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor asks for help and finds other pro-Yuuri allies.  
> Viktor and Yuuri finally talk.  
> Also, cabin bonding is mandated by the powers-that-be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there,
> 
> Hope you enjoy this new chapter of TOTABC! 
> 
> I am having a lot of fun writing this story, and looking forward to an exciting as-yet-unwritten denouement. Please keep in mind that the chapter count is merely a good guesstimation. I've been making sure to write one full chapter ahead of my posting schedule so that I can modify as needed, which is why I have been posting so sporadically. I also periodically take breaks to search for inspiration, but the end is in sight.
> 
> Should you enjoy what you are reading, please consider leaving a comment or kudos. I love hearing your reactions, ideas, and suggestions as I write.
> 
> Wow, the ends of those sentences rhymed. Ok.
> 
> Much love,
> 
> \- Smiles

Viktor plunges through the underbrush, quickening his pace.

For the first time all summer, he’s wary. Maybe even nervous.

Viktor’s never quite done something like this before, plus he can’t even be sure that the person he’s hoping to see will still be where he’s headed.

But this is important. After all, it is for Yuuri.

In the gloomy half-light of the sunset, Viktor halts outside a large wooden set of double doors. Gasping heavily, he comes to a stop, contemplating them. Viktor’s always had a terrible memory for places, but this building seems kind of familiar from Celestino’s tour last week. This time, he’s just going to have to trust his instincts. 

Viktor reaches for the handles, his heart pounding a little. He pushes down and, with a reverberating creak, the doors open too quickly, banging deafeningly against the opposing walls.

Though the building’s main lights have already been turned off for the evening, Viktor can just make out a muted glow at the end of the hallway.

His Birkenstocks clatter loudly against the linoleum floor.

A neglected faucet drips ominously in the distance.

Arriving at his destination, he pushes lightly against the door ajar in front of him and it easily gives way.

It seems the person he wishes to see has anticipated his arrival.

He sits in a rotating desk chair, facing away from the door and sketching steadily across a large white canvas.

Sensing that he has company, he slowly spins towards Viktor like a cartoon villain.

He speaks.

“Ah, Nikiforov.” Phichit said with a smirk, “I’ve been expecting you.”

[Phichit’s actually been waiting his whole life to make an entrance like that, he swears to _God_.]

Viktor takes a moment to recover, relieved that Peaches hasn’t left for dinner yet.

“I’m so glad you’re still here. I think I need your help.”

“Well duh,” Peaches replies with an eye-roll, carefully setting down his 2B pencil. “Without me, you and Yuuri-kun are never going to figure your crap out.”

Viktor blinks, a bit surprised at Phichit’s brash honesty.

“I’m not sure what I did, but the others in our cabin are being so cruel. And I can’t even get Yuuri to look at me! I just want to get to know him, Peaches,” Vikor laments, slumping into a desk chair across from Phichit.

“This is a toughie. It’s a good thing I called in reinforcements,” Peaches replies as Chris casually saunters into the art studio.

“Chris!” Viktor shouts exuberantly, jumping brightly to his feet, running over to his new best friend, and wrapping him in a fierce hug.

“ _Mon cher_ , you honestly couldn’t think I’d ever leave you to fend against the wolves by yourself, could you?”, Chris fondly replies, as he releases Viktor. 

“Of course not, Chris, but I didn’t even know you and Peaches were on speaking terms. I’m so glad, guys! This whole mess with our cabin is absurd,” As Viktor returns to his chair, he pulls out his neon pink hair scrunchie and twirls his silver locks around his index finger, contemplatively – it is a nervous habit he’d picked up years earlier and been unable to ditch, despite his mother’s disapproval.

“I’d have to agree with you there, sexy,” Chris huffs. “

“Plus, tonight I heard him sing,” Viktor sighs dreamily, eyes twinkling even as they shift out of focus. “Just, oh my God, Peaches,” he moans, upping the pace at which he twirls his hair.

“Oh brother,” Peaches huffs fondly.

“As soon as those jerks hear him sing, they are going to feel like such idiots!”

“Here! Here!”, Chris vigorously toasts, gesturing skyward with his Lululemon water bottle.

\---

A solid 45 minutes later, the exhausted boys smile wanly at each other, a tentative plan of action formed. After carefully packing away his sketches and art supplies, Phichit tosses his light purple Hamster-lined canvas bag over his shoulder, flicks the buzzing florescent lights out, and gestures for his friends to follow him out of the art studio.

“Great, well that sounds easy enough. Stop the boys in our cabin from being mean. Make Yuuri fall impossibly in love with me. Take over the world. Piece of cake, right?”

“Honestly, Viktor, I think the most difficult part of the plan will be getting Yuuri to talk to you. He’s very … stubborn.”

“Eh, I’m not worried. How could he resist this face?” Viktor jokes.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m worried about,” grumbles Peaches, fondly rolling his eyes.

\---

Inspired by the people on his side and their new strategy for confronting the bullies, Viktor decides he’s got to hold up his part of the plan immediately.

When he spots Yuuri ambling out of Yakov’s studio, he decides he can’t wait a second longer. He’s going to become fast friends with Yuuri, and he’s going to do it _right now_.

Of course, it doesn’t go exactly as Viktor has planned…

“Yuuuuuri, let’s get ice cream?”

             “I can’t, I’m watching my weight.”

“Yuuuuuuuuuuri, let’s go for a run!?”

               “No thanks. I’m busy and I have asthma.”

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuri, we should practice our lines together!!!!!!??????”

                 “Nope, sorry. I have dance rehearsal with Mila.”

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuri, can we take a selfie to send to Makkachin?”

            “Yeah (Viktor’s heart leaps),

            I don’t think so (Viktor’s heart smashes into the dust).

            I don’t do pictures or social media.”

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuri, I think we should-“

                 “Uh uh, Viktor.”

…Apparently, Phichit had been right. Getting Yuuri Katsuki to talk to him was significantly harder than he thought it was going to be.

After what feels like several years of persistent asking, pining, and ducking paper airplanes with raunchy French pick-me-up phrases thrown at his zoned-out face by Chris across the cabin, Viktor finally realizes what he’s been doing wrong.

Following a particularly gruelling dance rehearsal of “Consider Yourself” the next day, Viktor, covered in sweat, grabs Yuuri’s hand and proclaims, without asking, “Yuuri, let’s go to the beach!”

And that, Yuuri can’t refuse.

\---

When Georgi eagerly announces their lunch break and runs off after a disgruntled Anya, Yuuri warily packs up his script, sits down on the wooden bench to tug off his jazz shoes, and sighs, forlornly.

When Viktor Nikiforov sends his signature wink directly in your direction and practically demands that you take a walk with him to the beach, you don’t exactly have the convenience of saying no…

…even if you can barely form three words around him, because looking at his heart-shaped smile and razor-sharp cheekbones and effervescent hair is like staring directly at the most glorious sun.

“Ready to go, Yuuri?” Like clockwork, Viktor Nikiforov, the man of the hour approaches him, rocking back and forth on his heels… almost as if he’s nervous? No, Yurri decides. That can’t possibly be right. Who would be nervous about talking to Katsuki, Yuuri?

“Sure, Viktor.” Yuuri replies heavily, “Let’s go.”

And when Viktor reaches for his book bag and swings it casually over his shoulder to accompany his own satchel as though it weighs nothing, Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to ask for it back.

Together, they reach the rocky lakeshore quickly, and choose an unoccupied place on the dock. As Yuuri strolls forward, drops to his tush, and hugs his knees defensively, Viktor stops a few feet behind him to discard their bags in a messy pile. He soon joins Yuuri, leaving a good amount of space between them. Making Yuuri uncomfortable is the last thing he wants, not when he’s finally gotten this far.

Suddenly, despite weeks of wishing for this moment, Viktor doesn’t quite know what to say. So he does what he does best. He avoids.

Viktor pulls off one yellow library sock and then the other, and drops his feet into the cool greenish water.

Deciding to brave it, he opens his mouth and-

“Yuuri, last night, I heard you sing and it was beautiful. You were beautiful.”

“So, did you just want to make fun of me some more?”

They turn to each other in surprise, having spoken simultaneously.

With the peel of their sudden laughter, the awkward atmosphere instantly dissipates.

“Of course not, Yuuri. I don’t really know all of the details, but I’m really sorry about what they’ve been doing to you. I didn’t ask them for any of this,” Vitktor voices, hesitantly.

“I know.” Yuuri softly replies. “I never really thought that. I’ve just looked up to you for a long time, and I didn’t want you to see my short-comings.”

“I guess I understand,” Viktor acquiesces thoughtfully. “But you’ve got to know, you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve come across in a long time, Yuuri.”

“Did you mean it, though? About my singing?” Yuuri hedges, cautiously.

Viktor brightens considerably. Yuuri’s talent is something Viktor can talk about, no problem. “How could you ever doubt that? You think I can’t recognize talent when I see it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never really had a voice lesson, before last night, so it is kind of hard for me to believe. Thanks though, I guess.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor begins seriously, catching Yuuri’s uncertain gaze, “Most singers don’t begin to study seriously until high school. And I could never lie about your abilities. You are going to be a really big deal someday. In fact, I can’t wait to see it. I know you are capable of so, so much. Will you show it to me soon?” He asks, reaching for Yuuri’s cheek, cautiously.

“I-I’ll try, Viktor.” Yuuri replies, blushing prettily, at Viktor’s light touch.

Sensing the heart-to-heart is over, Viktor drops his hand and searches for another conversation topic, if only to keep Yuuri with him for a few moments longer.

Of course, Yuuri beats him to it.

“So, what were you going to do?” Yuuri questions.

“Hmm?” Viktor hums, as distracted as always by Yuuri’s pretty nose and eyes and cheeks… really, just his whole face is super absorbing.

“To JJ? To get back at him, I mean,” Yuuri clarifies.

“Well,” Viktor begins, “Last night, Phichit, Chris, and I thought up a series of harmless practical jokes to teach JJ and his crew a lesson.”

“Yeah, Phichit had mentioned something like that. I suppose this is supposed to be summer camp, even if nothing we do here is remotely outdoorsy.” Yuuri quips, “So, what did you come up with?”

“Well, I suggested the ‘send him out into the middle of the lake at night on a mattress’ trick from _Meatballs_ , but Chris said it was too passé.”

“Didn’t that movie come out in the 1970s? How old are you, anyway? It must be all that grey hair messing with your logic.”

“Yuuri! _Meatballs_ is a camp classic! And my gorgeous silver hair isn’t grey! You wound me!,” cries Viktor, melodramatically.

“More like _camp-y_ classic. Absolutely ridiculous. What were your other brilliant ideas?”

“Sleeping hands in warm water to make him pee himself?”

“Nah. Too basic.”

“Midnight lipstick moustache?”

“Pass. But also, who has lipstick?”

“Chris, of course. Duh. It is sparkly. And red.”

“Huh.”

“Tie-dying his uniform shirts?”

“Hmm. Not the worst idea. But where would we even get supplies?”

“From Peaches, of course! He’s got a key to both the costume and art studios.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, he might actually like that. I know I’d love to have a redandyellowandgreenandbrownandscarletandblackandogreandpeachandrubyandoliveandviolentand-“

“Are you seriously parroting _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_ at me right now?” Yuuri gapes, eyes dancing and cheeks flushed with amusement. He never expected his idol to be so goofy.

Viktor laughs. He thinks, in this moment, that he’s never been happier.

\---

In the end, no part of Viktor, Peaches, and Chris’s admittedly very _very_ poorly constructed series of pranks ends up needing to be put into action.

The boys and girls of the intermediate division slouch, fiddling with their uniforms, in the sweltering, mid-afternoon heat of Kresge auditorium, facing the stage, as a no-nonsense Celestino gesticulates at them with his signature clipboard.

“It has been brought to my attention that there has been some, quite frankly preposterous bullying occurring this summer.”

Viktor, Chris, and Phichit side-eye each other, wondering who had the guts to finally speak up. They all know it wasn’t one of them.

“I’m not sure why,” Celestino continues, “Because from what I’ve seen so far, you are all good kids and talented to boot, and I would have thought that you could find some other outlet for your ridiculousness. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“So, I’m going to help you out,” explains Celestino. “This Friday night, there will be a cabin air-band competition. Each cabin will choose a song and choreograph a 3-4 minute performance. The cabin with the best performance will win a fully paid dinner at Bud’s, an hour of recording time in the radio studio, and bragging rights for the rest of the summer.”

The teens, boys and girls alike, look around at each other in wonder.

From a couple of seats down, Viktor catches Yuuri’s eye. Yuuri giggles.

“But Unit Head Celestino,” JJ thrusts his hand into the air and speaks up in an oily, mock-respectful tone, “What if we think we could do a better job with those in another cabin?” He not-subtly-at-all shoots an ill-disguised wink at Isabella from across the auditorium. (She blushes, and winks right back at him, as the girls of her cabin titter).

“Thank you for your question, JJ” Celestino replies. “Actually, the reason we are doing this activity is to help you with getting to know your cabin mates better, so unfortunately working with other cabins is not an option this time.” 

JJ huffs dejectedly. Viktor, Yuuri, Phichit, and Chris beam at each other.

“So, anymore questions?” Celestino booms, “No. Ok! Let’s get started! I will see you all back here in three days time for the inaugural intermediate air-band competition! Buona fortuna!”


	7. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabin 13 prepares for and performs at the first annual air-band competition!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there folks,
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter update. We have officially hit song-fic territory, so proceed with caution. There may be unexpected toe-tapping, mental choreography, and singing along to an addictive childhood favourite in your near future. 
> 
> Should you have time, please take a moment to let me know how I'm doing in the comments. I sadly do not have a beta, so if you notice anything funky that I haven't caught in my obsessive read-throughs, please share. :)
> 
> XO
> 
> -Smiles

“No! No! NO!” JJ commands, turning blue in the face, “God, why are you all so incompetent? You need to flip _over_ Leo, not crush him!”

“Who made you king of anything?” Chris sniffs, popping back up to his feet, post-aerial.

“Woah! That was a Sara Bareilles quote, right? Feisty!” Phichit chuckles, delightedly, from his perch on a nearby stump.

“For fucks, sake. Stop flirting at each other and get on with it already! I wanna see a full run-through,” whines Yuri Plisetsky, lifting his sunglasses back down his nose. He’s currently sprawled across a yellow beach towl, sunbathing at the sidelines like he owns the place.

“Be nice, Yura,” Otabek murmurs from ‘stage left’ (between tree one and tree two).

“I think the better question is why you are even here right now, Oliver-the-second. Do we need to remind you that you aren’t part of this cabin?” JJ demands.

“What else was I supposed to do without practice today?” Yuri grumbles, flipping onto his stomach to even out his non-existent tan.

 Granted the day off from rehearsals for the impending competition, the boys of Cabin 13 (plus Yuri) are sprawled out across a patch of lawn, planning their lip-synched version of “I’ll Make A Man Out of You” from Disney’s _Mulan_.

“Well, if you are going to keep crashing, we’re going to need to give you a nickname. You and Katsuki can’t _both_ be Yuri. It’s too confusing.”

“Give _him_ the nickname!” Yuri whines.

“Nah, he’s older and he got here first,” prods Viktor. “You can be Yurio!”

“Ach. You’re all the worst!” grunts Yurio, “I don’t know why I even put up with you!”

“Well, we could always call you _Yura_ , like a certain _someone_ does,” Phichit mercilessly teases.

“Fuck off, asshole!” Yuri huffs, “Only Beka gets to call me that.”

“Beka, eh?” Viktor casually comments.

Yuri actually _hisses_ at him in response.

 _‘Song tiger of Russia’, Viktor’s ass_ , he snorts to himself. _Yuri’s way more like a feisty kitten._

Though heated debate over the song choice (and the uninvited observer) had nearly landed Viktor, Chris, and JJ on one-way trips to the nursing station, Otabek had managed to pry them off each other. Since Guang was pretty much the only neutral player in their cabin, and nobody had any problems with the even-temperered and freckled boy, they’d accepted his song recommendation from _Mulan_ and (mostly) set aside their mutual dislike to get the job done.

After all, they wanted to win.

“Ok, again from the top!” JJ haughtily demands, “Cue the music, Seung!”

Seung presses play on Guang’s iPod, looking, as usual, incredibly bored at the proceedings.

No one, not even JJ, was going to deny that Viktor Nikiforov was the best possible choice for their ‘leading man.’ Even if he stood on stage and did nothing but read from a phonebook for four minutes straight, all of the girls (and most of the gents too), would undoubtedly swoon in his mere presence. In order to win this thing, Chris claimed, they needed to show off all of their best _assets_ … namely, Viktor’s.

(Due to their undeniable chemistry, Phichit had _insisted_ that Yuuri play Mulan. With little more than an eye-roll, JJ – their self-appointed team captain – had conceded.)

“4 and 3 and 2 and 1!” JJ counts them in.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCyqb0GMfvE]

During the opening notes of the backtrack, Viktor swaggers his way to downstage center, grinning, to assume the lead role of Captain Li Shang at the group’s front. He eyes his ‘new recruits’ with disdain, as they ‘ignore’ the Captain, gossiping with one another animatedly from upstage.

As the boys ‘notice’ Viktor watching them, they strike theatrical poses, miming failure at impossible feats of war.

Viktor sighs dramatically, mouthing along with the opening lines, and thinking simultaneously about how apt his line is in describing the dynamics of his cabin:

                        “We’ve got a loooong way to go.”

Dividing into two parallel lines, the boys conclude their fake chattering and march forward to the sound of the opening militaristic drumbeat.

Tossing the boys of his cabin prop sticks like in the Disney movie (…the sticks are courtesy of the drama department, though they don’t actually know it yet), Viktor animatedly mouths:

                        “Let’s get down to business to defeat the huns!

                        Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?

Flinging the rods aside, the boys upstage attempt push-ups, with various levels of success. Yuuri crosses his legs at the knee and lifts his upper body easily, while Leo slides out of the correct form and deliberately falls flat on his face. JJ goes so far as to tuck-and-roll out of his attempted push-up.

                        You’re the saddest bunch I ever met

                        But you can bet before we’re through

                        Mister, I’ll make a man out of you!”

Viktor grabs Yuuri by the collar and jabs him in the ribs, winking at him with the eye upstage, invisible to the imaginary audience (and Yurio, his real audience).

                        “Tranquil as a forest for the fire within

                        Once you find your center you are sure to win

                        You’re a spineless pale pathetic lot and you haven’t got a clue

                        Somehow I’ll make a man out of you!”

The boys form a backwards triangle, dropping to their knees, while facing upstage. They rise and turn one-by-one to deliver their solo lines to the audience:

                        “I’m never gonna catch my breath,” Phichit pants, hands to his knees.

                        “Say goodbye to those who knew me!” growls Leo, waving animatedly.

                        “Boy was I a fool in school for cutting gym,” whines Chris.                

                        “This guy’s got ‘em scared to death,” comments JJ, gesturing offhandedly at Viktor.

                         “Hope he doesn’t see right through me!” sighs Yuuri, covering himself in mock-modesty.

                        “Now I really wish that I knew how to swim!” exclaims Otabek (who has been roped into this whole thing against his will), miming front crawl.                                        

 Dividing into their assigned dance packs, the boys gesture at each other from stage left and right. Leo, JJ, Seung, and Otabek back up Viktor’s demands, echoing “Be a man!” and stomping with their right feet heavily, while the rest of the boys – Yuuri, Phichit, Chris, and Guang - cycle quickly through a series of tight, almost hip-hop-like, movements choreographed by Chris himself.

“Be a man!”

                                                            “You must be swift as a coursing river man!”

“Be a man!”

                                                            “With all the force of a great typhoon!”

“Be a man!”

                                                            “With all the strength of a raging fire.”

                                                            “Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!”

As the key ascends and Viktor’s gesturing grows steadily more over-the-top, the boys surge forward in a full body wave line.

                        “Time is racing towards us ‘til the huns arrive,

                        Heed my every order and you might survive!”

Yuuri heads forward, taking a mock-slap to the cheek from Viktor, as he scolds him:

                        “You’re unsuited for the rage of war, so pack up, go home, you’re through

                        How can I make a man out of you?”

The boys return to the opening choreography, but instead of faking their way through it, this time they accomplish it to demonstrate that they are stronger than they were before.

                        “You must be swift as a coursing river

                        With all the force of a great typhoon,

Chris leaps forward, crossing directly over Leo’s summersault, with a perfectly executed aerial.

                        With all the strength of a raging fire,

                        Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!”

On the final _a capella_ chorus repetition, the boys of the cabin form a human pyramid, linking arms on their hands and knees. Yuuri makes a show of steadily climbing to the top position and stands on his cabin mates’ backs, as Viktor watches on in satisfied amazement. Phichit and Chris act as spectators, also cheering him on from the sidelines.

Yuuri jumps down as the music picks up again. The boys jump to their feet.

As one, the cabin kicks left, and they punch into the empty air.

Only after striking their final poses (the original shows of strength from the opening tableaux) do they register the sound of frantic clapping.

“Wow! That was _so_ awesome guys!” beams a little boy in navy blue knee-highs.

A tuft of florescent red at the front of his spiked golden hair and a lone protruding snaggle tooth render him even more endearing than his obvious youth.

“Scram, chickenman. We’re practicing!” JJ growls.

[“Indigo Girls,” Phichit stage-whispers the obscure band reference to an amused Chris.]

“He’s not doing any harm, JJ. What’s your name, little one?” Viktor questions.

“I’m Minami.” The junior replies shyly, “I’m one of the _Oliver!_ swings, so I don’t get called in for rehearsals very often.” He blushes, and, completing ignoring Viktor, turns towards a shocked Yuuri.” “But I want to be _just like you_ one day, Yuuri-Kun!”

“Me?” Yuuri gulps nervously.

“Yeah! I’m one of Minako’s newest students back in Hasetsu, and she showed me your audition tapes. You dance like an angel and somehow you sing even better than you dance! I can’t wait for opening night!”

JJ looks disgusted.

Yuuri’s mouth drops open in shock.

Viktor beams.

 _Yuuri’s got his first real fan!_ , he thinks to himself appreciatively. _About time!_

\---

Finally, the day of the heavily anticipated air-band competition arrives.

Campers from all divisions file excitedly into Kresge auditorium, a steady torrent of red, white, and blue in their uniforms. Meanwhile, the performers whisper to themselves out back, adding finishing touches to their costumes and making final preparations for the show.

Yuuri, of course, is panicking.

Phichit, as usual, is comforting him.

And Viktor, of course, is panicking while watching Yuuri panic because all of this panicking is seriously panicking him.

The saying on the back wall of the stage seems to be mocking Yuuri, proclaiming the camp’s dedication ‘to the promotion of world friendship through the universal language of the arts’.

Yuuri hasn’t exactly been feeling the ‘world friendship’ thing so much, recently.

“It is going to be ok, Yuuri,” Phichit soothes, rubbing circles on his back assuredly. “We’re prepared and we’ve got this. You won’t be up there alone, after all!”

“But Phichit! What if I mess up somehow and it makes everyone else mess up?!” Yuuri moaned, “I’m a walking disaster! I still don’t even know why they let me in!”

“Because,” Phichit explains, as if to a five year old, “You are more talented than every other kid in this cabin combined, and they wanted you for their lead! Now buck up, and let’s do this, kay?”

Yuuri’s answer is a full-body shudder.

A couple of steps away, Viktor wrings his hands, concerned for Yuuri.

The worst part is Viktor doesn’t know if he and Yuuri are close enough yet for him to be a comforting presence or an added stressor, if he decides to reach out to him.

There must be _something_ he can do?

Even Chris is entirely unhelpful when Viktor runs off to ask him for some advice. He just puckers his lips, applying his sparkly red lipstick with a flourish, and hands the tube over to Viktor.

Since Celestino is letting the performers discard their mandatory uniforms for the stage, Cabin 13 has decided to wear primarily black and white attire, accented with red.

To nobody’s surprise, Chris had chosen the most alluring of all possible outfits. But with Yuuri standing right there in his white blouse, tight black dance pants, and red bandana (even with his features marred by unbridled fear), Viktor barely has eyes for the hint of Chris’ red garter under his mini skort.

Celestino’s voice booms out over the audio system and the campers falling silent.

“…And now, please welcome our first performers, Boy’s Division Cabin 13!”

\---

“YYYYYYYEEEEEESSSSSS! WOOOOOO!” the boys hoot, clambering back up the stage stairs to collect their dollar store gold medals.

Though Cabin 15 of the Girl’s division had done an inventive iteration of the Backstreet Boy’s “I Want It That Way,” their spirited confetti, cleavage, and cartwheels hadn’t been quite enough to beat out Boy’s division Cabin 13, especially in the face of Chris’ perfectly executed handless flip and Viktor’s (American idol-acclaimed) sassiness.

Yuuri isn’t exactly sure who starts it, but suddenly the boys of Cabin 13 are chanting “Victory!” louder and louder. Gaining momentum, they begin to jump up and down. Phichit pretends to conduct the audience in joining in while Chris cartwheels, hydro-planes, and moonwalks across the vast stage.

(Yuuri almost manages to block out Phichit’s excited shouts of “OH MY GOD, THEY’RE SHOUTING MY SHIP!!!” Yuuri still isn’t quite sure what a ‘ship’ is. When he’d hesitantly asked, Phichit had affectionately rolled his eyes and said he’d know one day, young Jedi, whatever that meant.)

So this is what a true collective - a team - feels like, Yuuri thinks fondly to himself, as he continues jumping up and down with his cabin, feeling absolutely foolish but unable to stop himself from participating all the same.

The frenetic energy, the unfettered JOY at actually WINNING something together is so outrageously uncontrollable that it simply requires bodily expression.

He feels like part of one of those hockey teams he’d always thought were so contemptible, covered in sweat and smacking each other and chasing after pucks for no good reason.

But, the funny part, the surprising part, is it feels… _good_.

At the audience’s insistent reply chant of “Off the stage!”, the boys grab their medals from wherever they had disposed of them in their hasty excitement, clasp hands, and swagger to the staircase.

“I guess you guys aren’t so bad,” JJ finally concedes to his cabin as he reaches their seats. Delighted with his shiny plastic medal and anxiously seeking Isabella’s approval with a glance, he barely pays them any attention, but the right sentiment is perhaps there, thinks Viktor. He’s secretly glad he didn’t dye JJ’s t-shirts rainbow coloured. It would have been a waste of perfectly good paint.

“Wow. That’s actually a huge ass compliment, coming from him,” admits Leo, impressed.

Ok, so things aren’t magically perfect.

And they still have, as Viktor had voiced, a long way to go.

But for the first time, Yuuri thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might actually enjoy the final three weeks of camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Since I'm back in the swing of grad school, chapter updates might slow slightly over the next couple of weeks. However, for a plethora of reasons, this fic is important to me and I will not abandon it. 
> 
> As per usual, comments/kudos are most welcome!


	8. Coaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor makes Yuuri an offer that he simply can't refuse. Also, Yuuri performs solo for his cast for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there,
> 
> Thanks for continuing to stick with me! Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter out. 
> 
> As per usual, I live (and write) for your comments and kudos, so please consider leaving one or the other (or both!) before you leave. 
> 
> Without further ado...

“Pst! PSSSSSTTTTTT. PSSSTTTT!!! Yuuri! YUURI! Wake! Up!”

 “Huh?” Yuuri moans, thinking he must be imagining the rather insistent voice in his ear.

 “YUURI!”

 “WhadoyawantViktor? Itsthemiddleofthenight,” Yuuri grunts, turning over sleepily. His internal clock suggests it must be about 5:30am, since even Leo hasn’t started to stir in preparation for his morning bugle shift. Maybe if he just ignores the nuisance, Viktor will go away.

Weeks ago, Yuuri could barely sleep knowing that his childhood idol was slumbering _mere meters_ away from him… now, there might actually be such a thing as _too early_ to deal with even Viktor Nikiforov.

“Yuu-ri,” Viktor whines as petulantly as his namesake, Yuuri’s poodle back in Hasetsu, “Get up! I have a surprise for you!”

Realizing his cabin mate isn’t going to stop bugging him anytime soon, Yuuri heavily rolls over to face Viktor. Partially cracking his sleep-crusted eyes open and realizing he can see nada with his naturally cruddy vision, Yuuri reaches out to the wooden ledge of his bunk, fumbling blindly for his glasses. Popping them onto his nose with a ‘huff’, Yuuri is surprisingly faced with a fully dressed Viktor, high ponytail perfectly in place and practice bag slung casually over his shoulder.

“Fine, fine,” the boy sighs unhappily, “Give me five and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Yes!” Viktor coos softly, aware that the rest of the boys are still in various states of REM. With a completely unnecessary wink (Yuuri thinks grumpily), Viktor sashays his way to the door.

Did Viktor just victoriously punch his fist in the air?

Yuuri must have imagined that part.

\--

“So what was so important it couldn’t wait until daytime?” Yuuri mutters, trekking behind Viktor grumpily. He’d been pretty close to right about the time – it was bloody 6am in the freaking morning.

“After I saw your pre-air band jitters, I thought that maybe that might apply to the musical too. So, I snuck Yakov’s key to the rehearsal space when he wasn’t paying attention during my lesson yesterday, so that you could practice a bit while no one else is around! You can, I don’t know, get a feel for the place.” Viktor beams, rather triumphantly in Yuuri’s direction, expecting nothing but heaps of gratitude.

 _Maybe Yuuri will even kiss him on the cheek, just to, you know, show how appreciative he is_ , Viktor giddily daydreams.

But at this point, Viktor shouldn’t be nearly as surprised as he is when instead, Yuuri completely misunderstands his intentions and jumps to the worst possible conclusion.

“You just don’t want me to mess this up for everybody, do you? You think I’ll forget all of my lines and dance moves and staging and ruin the musical!” Yuuri yells, tears pooling quickly in his beautiful brown eyes.

“You’re just like everybody else,” he concludes sadly, pivoting on his heel forlornly to return to the cabin.

“NO Yuuri! That’s SO not what I meant!” Viktor yelps as if in pain, coming to a complete stop and grabbing Yuuri’s arm so rapidly that Yuuri nearly stumble forward.

He spins to Yuuri to face him.

Beautiful, oblivious Yuuri.

He’s got to make this clear somehow.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you! I thought you might appreciate having a bit of practice time when no one is judging you. We are friends, after all, aren’t we?”

Yuuri sputters incoherently, making to back away. He trips a little bit over an imaginary tree root (read: his own feet), and Viktor has to grab his shoulder bag to keep him upright.

“Look Yuuri, what do you want me to be to you? A brother? A mentor? A friend?” Viktor prods, his expression uncharacteristically serious. Honestly, he’d offer to be Yuuri’s boyfriend, but given their track record, he’s pretty sure that offer would send the boy running for the hills.

“I don’t know?” Yuuri eventually replies, phrasing it a bit like a question. “Maybe you could just… be yourself?”

Now it is Viktor’s turn to nearly crash into a tree. That’s got to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him. Struggling to regain his footing, he nearly misses the rest of Yuuri’s answer.

“…but I guess it could be good if we were friends too, right?”

Viktor has to harness his years of acting training to push down his emotions, which are suddenly brimming endlessly. He decides he can feel things later. Right now, he’s got to calm the freak down and answer Yuuri’s poorly phrased question.

“Excellent! Yes! We are friends!” Viktor hoots victoriously, “And that means, if we are friends, that friends can do nice things for each other! Like break camp rules and steal keys and stuff?” he prods.

“Um. Yeah. I guess,” Yuuri finally agrees, “This was er- really kind of you Viktor. It kind of reminds me of having Minako’s _Ice Castle_ dance studio to myself at home. Practicing in a quiet space always helps me with my performance anxiety. So, I mean, thanks.”

Viktor hums contentedly. They’d gotten there in the end.

“…But you know I’m more uncomfortable performing around you than I am around the rest of the cast combined, right?”

Or, maybe not.

Viktor harrumphs, a bit put out. “But Yuuurrrrriii, I’ve already seen you sing, so there’s really nothing to worry about. Just pretend I’m not there… or better yet,” he continues excitedly, “Don’t they always tell people who get stage fright to picture the audience in their underpants? Cause if you want, purely for research purposes, I could totally strip down to my-“

“STAWP!” Yuuri cries, turning a vibrant shade of fuchsia. A couple of counsellors poke their heads out of a nearby cabin in concern. “I really don’t think that will be necessary!”

They walk in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, nearing the studio.

“I’m just worried I’ll disappoint you or something,” Yuuri hesitantly admits, breaking the tension as they reach their destination.

Viktor is quick to reassure him as best he can. “Yuuri, you could never! Would it help if I turned around or read a book instead of paying attention to you?”

“NO! That’s- that’s not what I want at all,” Yuuri admits abashedly, “I only want you to look at me.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Now it is Viktor’s turn to blush profusely, busying himself with the unlocking of the wooden doors. “I—I could do that, I think. Maybe I could even offer you some tips as you go, like, I don’t know, a coach or something?”

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a fish.

His idol is offering to _coach_ him, like it is a perfectly normal everyday thing for him to do.

Because they are friends now, apparently.

Friends.

“Um, I guess that could be good, maybe?” Yuuri replied, shyly.

“Then it is settled. Let’s get started!”

\---

Training solo with Viktor is nothing short of brutal.

“Again, Yuuri! But with feeling!”

“I _am_ feeling!”

“ _No_ , what I saw when I spied on your solo practice session was feeling.”

“That’s because _you weren’t supposed to be there_!”

“Whatever this is might be about as moving as a sack of potatoes,” he continues.

“Viktor! That’s rude.”

“What? No, it is called _honesty_! Try it again!”

Yuuri huffs, a bit out of breath and _a lot_ hungry. Viktor has been making him run incessantly through “Where is Love?” without much progress on conveying his emotions. By now, breakfast time must be nearly over.

Yuuri _really_ could have gone for some cornflakes. Sigh.

By now, they’ve talked his character to death, considered his aspirations, motivations, and even what the timbre of his singing voice should convey to audiences.

As far as Viktor is concerned, Yuuri Katsuki is Oliver, and Oliver is Yuuri Katsuki.

But Yuuri doesn’t seem to be _getting_ it.

“Where is love? Does it fall from-“

“Stop.”

“What _now_ Viktor?” Yuuri huffs impatiently.

“But Oliver, _where_ is love? _What_ is love? _Who_ is love?”

“Hurrumph. Was that seriously all you wanted to contribute? Existential life questions?”

“These are important elements to think about! How are you supposed to seek love if you don’t even know what love is?” Viktor chides him, from his perfect splits on the oak of the studio floor.

“Figure out what or who or how you love. You need to _find_ your inner Oliver.” Viktor continues, “Your character is a sweet orphan in need of a loving home. Got it? Ok, now try it again, Oliver.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath in.

He’s not Yuuri.

He’s Oliver.

He can do this.

… that is until the door of their secret haven swings open and a deadly soft, menacing voice says,

“Vitya, are those, by any chance, my keys?”

“Hiiiiiii Yakov. What an absolutely exquisite morning we’re having, wouldn’t you agree? Oh, and these old things? What would possibly give you _that_ idea?”

Well, shit.

\---

After the deep pile of crap they’d gotten into from Yakov (he’d treated both of them - but mostly Viktor – to a long lecture about responsibility and following camp rules and delinquent generational attitudes and blah blah blah), Yuuri and Viktor had become more discreet about their impromptu rehearsals.

For Yuuri’s sake, Viktor had kept his mild kleptomania in check, and they’d found alternative spaces to practice that didn’t involve keys mysteriously disappearing from their unsuspecting owners.

In Viktor’s books, Yuuri can now confidently sing “Where is love?” with heaps more passion than a sack of potatoes while brushing his teeth, doing his dance warm ups, hanging upside down off of Seung’s bed (“What? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” was his offhanded reply to Phichit, when he’d asked what he was doing), and even in his lessons with Yakov.

So, when Ketty finally gives Yuuri _the look_ at the end of pre-lunch rehearsal, mid-week four, Viktor feels ready.

And Yuuri does not.

“You’ve got this, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers at him, gesturing to the center of the room encouragingly.

Shaking like a leaf, Yuuri slowly rises to his feet. Jazz shoes clacking ominously, he makes his way to the crook of the grand piano, where he is supposed to stand during rehearsals. Georgi hasn’t given him any real blocking for his solo yet, just advising him in his usual theatrical fashion to ‘do whatever feels the most honest’.

From behind the piano, Ketty looks at him expectantly, waiting for the deep breath that they had decided would signal that he was ready to begin.

The rest of the cast, including the guest alumni, Lilia, and Georgi watch him appraisingly. Their eyes feel like daggers.

But Viktor’s last words of wisdom echo clearly in his mind.

“Before you start, close your eyes. Nothing matters more in this moment than your character.”

“Just sing the way you can honestly say you liked best.”

Yuuri takes a deep breathe in.

\---

With his dreaded solo performance complete, Yuuri had found himself a seat for lunch in Lockhaven dining hall. Since Yakov had asked for a private word with Viktor, Yuuko and Takeshi had run off together for some ‘alone time’ post-rehearsal, and Phichit was still in his studio class, Yuuri pulled out a chair at an empty table.

“Hey you!” cries a voice to his left.

Curiously, Yuuri looks up from his slightly soggy chicken nuggets to find a self-conscious Yuri Plisetsky shifting his weight from foot to foot in front of him. Always polite, Yuuri gestures for the small boy to join him. He does so, setting down his tray with an unconsciously angry **_thump_**.

It seems that whatever Yuri wants to say is especially hard for him. He pulls his fingers nervously, and takes a large gulp of his bug juice before moving to speak.

“You… you didn’t suck today,” he begrudgingly admits, “What I mean is you are good. Talented. I’m glad they made you the main lead.” From the heavy set of his eyebrows, Yuuri can tell this isn’t easy for the other Yuri to say to his face.

“Thanks, Yuri,” Yuuri replies softly. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head!” Yuri grunts, grabbing his fork and viciously stabbing a green bean. “All I’m saying is that you don’t suck as hard as JJ. Besides, I could probably kick your ass, when it comes to the dance moves they’ve taught us for ‘Consider Yourself’.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Viktor gloats, plonking his tray down just a smidge too close to Yuuri’s. “Yuuri is blessed with the dance moves of the Gods. I’ve seen it myself,” Viktor gloats nonchalantly.

As both Yuris’ cheeks heat - one from embarrassment and the other from irritation - a large hand finds its resting place on little Yuri’s shoulder.

“Mind if I join you guys for lunch?” Otabek’s steady voice asks as he removes his hand from Yuri, and places it back on the tray of food he is precariously balancing.

“By all means,” Viktor gestures to the seat beside Yuri.

As Viktor chatters away about setting up a dance-off between the two Yuris, Yuuri allows himself to think back on his performance earlier in the day.

_“Ready, Yuuri?” Ketty had asked._

_“Ye-yeah,” huffed Yuuri, squaring his shoulders._

_He thought about the rollercoaster of emotions he had experienced in the first couple of weeks of camp, his nagging inadequacy, his embarrassment at being so new to this world despite his casting, his longing to be treated fairly by his cabin mates, but more so, to be noticed by Viktor._

_Now he had so much more than he could have ever dreamed. He had Viktor’s attention for now, but also his faith and his friendship._

_In this moment, that could be enough for him._

_He breathed deeply._

[From 0:30, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYRi1F5lDnw]

_Ketty began to play the introduction._

“Where is love?

                        Does it fall from skies above?”

_Yuuri could feel his voice waver a bit, but he pushed through it. Viktor believed in him. He could do this._

“Is it underneath the willow tree that I’ve been dreaming of?”

_In Yuuri’s life, it isn’t a willow tree that he’s been dreaming of for years. It is a cabin by a lake at a summer camp filled with boys who could understand how he feels about making music._

                        “Where is she who I close my eyes to see?

                        Will I ever know the sweet ‘hello’ that’s meant for only me?”

_For so long, Yuuri had wondered what it would be like to receive that ‘hello’ of recognition, but not from an absent mother. Rather, from his long-time idol._

_“_ Who can say where she may hide?

                        Must I travel far and wide?”

_And Travel he had. Across oceans. To Interlochen._

_Even if it was all a mysterious accident of the universe that he was in Viktor’s cabin and his program and had his attention, Yuuri was going to treasure every moment._  

                        “Till I am beside the someone who I can mean something to?

                        Where, where is love?”

_But almost imperceptibly, his feelings towards Viktor had shifted too. Viktor wasn’t some unreachable god on a pedestal. He was a kid like Yuuri, who snorted when he laughed and snored in his sleep and goofed off with Chris during dinnertime. He teared up when Yuuri was sad, and showed him countless exclusive videos of Makkachin, and teased him mercilessly while coaching him with dedication._

_Yuuri could feel the piano line ascend, and with it, his heart swelled. He could recreate his fear of losing this, what he had with Viktor, the anxiety of abandonment perfectly._

_For the first time, he didn’t want the summer to end._

                        “Every night I kneel and pray

                        Let tomorrow be the day”

_If Viktor asked him right now, about who and what and how he loved, he knew he had a real answer to give him, not that he would ever say anything._

_Yuuri thought he might comprehend the magnitude of truly loving somebody._

                        “Till I am beside the someone who I can mean something to.

                        Where, where is love?”

_Met with an unsettling silence, Yuuri slowly came back to himself._

_Sometime during the final verse, he must have closed his eyes. Brushing at his glasses, he was surprised to see that his fingers came away from his cheeks damp._

_Opening his eyes, he was met with the astonished faces of his cast members._

_Viktor, with tears of his own glistening prettily on his cheeks, smiled at him victoriously._

Maybe he could do this, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Shameless self-promo time: If you are enjoying this fic, but perhaps interested in something completely different, consider checking out my first one-shot, The One at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466529.


	9. Advancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys of Cabin 13 make good on at least one prize from their Airband win. There is dancing and talk of future possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening,
> 
> Thanks for returning for another chapter of TOTABC (aka the place where I re-live parts of my childhood live and in HD through the voices, personalities, and foibles of my new favourite anime characters. Woot!)
> 
> Hope you enjoy,
> 
> \- Smiles

“Oh my gawd! Chris, you were SO right about this place!”

                                                                      “This sandwich is to DIE for!”

                                     “Om nom nom. Come to mamma!”

            “…I might have ascended to the planes of taste-bud heaven!”

                                            “ _Hello. Is it me you’re looking for_?”

        (“Phichit, tell me you are _not_ actually singing to your sandwich right now?”)

Bud’s, the little café about a ten-minute hike off camp property, is jammed to the brim by a dozen very satisfied customers. The members of Cabin 13 (with a few additions) are thrilled to finally reap the benefits of their air-band win. This morning while the campers were still in their programs, Celestino has graciously given Otabek a set amount of funds to spend on each camper via unit credit card, and waved him off with a chipper “Complimenti! Buona sera!”

“This grilled cheese is almost as good as Katsudon!” Yuuri hums happily from behind his triple-decker.

“What’s Katsudon?” chirps Viktor, as he spears one of his crispy French fries in the left eye of his smiley-face ketchup design.

“Gaspeth! Only the best meal ever! It’s basically eggs and peas and pork cutlet over rice. It is my favourite food and my mom’s version is perfection!” gushes Yuuri, salivating in his mind’s eye.

Viktor gapes at him, dropping a fry. That might have just been the most Yuuri’s ever said to him in one go. Plus, for a moment, he sounded a lot like Phichit. 

Maybe they’re finally getting somewhere, Viktor muses.

“Hurrumph. I doubt that. My dedushka’s piroshky would ground your stupid Katsudon into the dust, piggy!”

Yuuri decides to let the hurtful nickname slide this time. Yuri’s too young to realize what he’s doing. Instead, Yuuri asks “What’s a pee-rosh-ky?” He stumbles a bit on the pronunciation of the unfamiliar word.

This time, he is greeted by both Viktor and Yuri’s stunned faces.

“HUUUUHHHH?!” Yuri exclaims, “Only, like, the best food EVER invented! They’re like, I donno what you call them, dumplings?”

“…Only flaky and delicious and to _die_ for!” Viktor picks up where Yuri leaves off, eyes glazing over with fondness.

Yuuri snorts to himself, shaking his head minutely. What drama kings they are.

“For the last time, what are you doing here, Yurio? You aren’t in our cabin or our unit or our age group,” JJ lists off in his usual nasal tone, none too delicately. It appears his airband-win glow has almost completely faded, and he’s back to his usual charming self.

“Besides, you didn’t even perform with our cabin in the air-band, so why should you reap the benefits?” JJ sniffs, condescendingly.

Seeing little Yuri’s downcast expression, Yuuri jumps in, aiming to soften the harshness of JJ’s question with a rephrasing.

“Look Yuri, not that I’m complaining or anything but you’ve basically been hanging out with us all summer. Is there a particular reason you seem to like our cabin so much more than your own?”

In little more than a whisper, Yuri grumbles, “Just tell them, Beka.”

“We’re friends. Yura and I. It is as simple as that. I like having him around,” huffs a stoic Otabek from behind his own sandwich. “Plus, I’m paying for him, so don’t get your knickers in a knot, JJ. There’s still enough mula left from Celestino for you all to get milkshakes or dessert or whatever.”

“Also, the kids in my cabin are a bunch of babies,” grumbles Yuri, “They still get homesick and cry themselves to sleep _every night_. They are like running faucets of snot and tears. It is gross.”

“Oh, guys,” Otabek perks up as much as his neutral features allow, and moves to change the subject, “There’s going to a big carnival on Sunday, run by yours truly and a bunch of the other counsellors. Attendance is mandatory, but it should be fun.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkle. “A carnival!” He exclaims happily, throwing down the overly-crispy crust of his sandwich. “What’s the occasion?”

“They do this every year,” Chris casually interjects, “It’s meant to celebrate mid-Summer Mardi Gras.”

“Do we haaaave to go?” whines Leo, “Guang and I made plans for our day off already.”

Checking to make sure Otabek is sufficiently distracted with wiping the crumbs off of little Yuri’s nose, JJ mutters, “You were probably going to just sneak off and make out behind the creative writing cabin anyway.”

Guang blushes an alarming shade of red, while Leo reaches across the table for his hand, looking a lot smug. “So what if we were?” Leo replies, “Just because you can’t get Izzy to go out with you doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be nuns.”

“Ick,” Yuri comments, stretching over Viktor’s plate for the salt. “Some of us are trying to eat in peace here!”

“I didn’t even know you were together,” Yuuri chirps, wiping his hands daintily on a brown paper napkin, and turning when Phichit taps his shoulder to get his attention.

“Well, I think they’re very sweet. Good for you guys!” Viktor commends. Sighing into his cola, he begins to track Yuuri’s movements with his eyes, not even trying to hide his unabashed stare.

Yuuri, newly engaged with the second half of his sandwich and the trending Instagram post Phichit is showing him under the table on his illicit cellphone, notices nothing.

And Chris, watching Viktor pining after Yuuri who is engaged by Phichit, just pats his friend on the back consolingly.

They’ve still got time to figure this out.

\---

“Ow! That was my foot!” Yuri grumbles.

“So sorry! I’m not used to anyone being there,” Yuuri yelps, continuing his grapevine across the stage, at Yuri’s heels.

With barely two weeks left until show time, Yuri-squared (as Georgi had oh-so-cleverly nicknamed them) had been paired for practice. Since they both need to know the full lead role as well as the ensemble parts, they’d taken to switching back-and-forth between characters during every scene change, with Yuuri playing the lead 2/3 of the time, and Yuri taking over for the remaining 1/3. So far, their method mostly seems to be working, but has unfortunately led to Yuri getting less practice in group dance numbers and Yuuri flubbing his lines for the scenes that Yuri had practiced without him.

Eventually, Lilia had become fed up with the two of them, and assigned them extra dance and read-through practice to achieve parallel ‘finesse and fluidity.’

_“It shouldn’t matter who plays which role!” She had declared, “You must both be equally capable and convincing! Prepare to sell your souls, no holds barred, to play this role to the best of your ability!”_

_…_ which is how they’d ended up back in an empty rehearsal space, trying to push through “Consider Yourself” without clawing each other’s eyes out while everyone else was enjoying a beach day.

“And again!” Yuri cries out to his older (and decrepit) doppelganger.

“1-2-3-4, 2-2-3-4, 3-2-3-4, …” Yuuri counts them in rapidly. Their practice music blares at them from the two sets of speakers.

“Pivot-turn, pivot-turn!”

Little Yuri’s head gives an almighty throb, but he pushes through it. He doesn’t want Yuuri to think he’s less capable, just because he’s younger. Asking for a break will just make him seem weak.

                        “Consider yourself our mate,

                        We don’t want to have no fuss

                        For after some consideration we can state

                        Consider yourself one of us!”

“Don’t forget to sing, Yuri,” Yuuri huffs, leaping into a series of complicated spins with an imaginary partner, as Yuri does the same to his left.

“ ‘…yourself one of us,’ I _am_ singing, dammit!” he spits out, as they both transition into the cheesy flailing jazz hand-box step combos that Georgi is so fond of.

“Ok,” Yuuri stills suddenly, heading over to silence the raging boom box connected to the sound system. “Let’s take a water break and grab our tap shoes,” he says, “Then we can try out the middle section.”

Just as Yuri grumps out, “You’re not the boss of me,” all the while heading over to his bag to tug off his jazz shoes, the door bangs open.

“It is I! Your saviour and purveyor of fine foods!” Viktor announces, waltzing triumphantly into the room with a tray of smoothies held aloft like a waiter in a penguin suit at a five star restaurant.

Stomping into his metal-soled booties, Yuri rolls his eyes as his companion’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Viktor! You actually came!” Yuuri beams.

Viktor’s answering grin could probably shatter glass. “Of course, Yuuri, I said I would, didn’t I? We’ve got to run “Consider Yourself” from the top, after all, and you need one Artful Dodger to do so properly.”

“You better have brought me something too,” Yuri merely grunts. He’s slowly getting used to Viktor’s antics. The older boy mysteriously becomes impossible to stomach as soon as he is within five feet of older Yuuri.

“Yes, yes, of course Yurio. Small banana-peanut butter with a dash of vanilla, your favourite! Here you go!” Viktor replies, dropping the smoothie into Yuri’s outstretched palms without removing his eyes from Yuuri’s face.

It’s actually an accomplishment that he can be disgustingly lovesick and still coordinated, Yuri mentally concedes.

“We’re almost ready for you, Viktor,” Yuuri continues, setting down his barely touched very berry smoothie beside his practice bag and springing lightly to his tiptoes. “We’ve just got to try out the tap section a few times, and then we can take it from the top.”

…Honestly, Yuri isn’t quite sure what’s happened since the day last week when Yuuri sang for the cast. It is like a switch has flipped and made Yuuri an entirely different, alluring, confident person.

It is… disconcerting.

And kind of annoying.

“Perfect,” Viktor concedes, as he drops to his bottom and slips on his own tap shoes, “I’ll join you.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Not so fast!” Yuuri chides him, “You’re got to stretch or you’ll risk hurting yourself.”

“Aw! My Yuuri _does_ care about me!” Viktor beams at a blushing Yuuri, who is already stepping through his tap choreography.

“Uch. _Your_ Yuuri? Stop being gross and get a move on.” Other Yuri grouses. “I don’t want my sweat to start drying, or I’ll also have to warm up _all over again_.”

“Gosh, what charming imagery you paint for us, young Yurio,” Viktor remarks.

Yuri mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘fuck off’ while the three boys scuffle into a line, facing the room’s front. For their purposes, it is the audience.

“Ok! Ready?” Yuuri asks them. They nod in response, linking arms (and causing a not-so-secret flash of joy to coarse through Viktor that he gets to do this with the person on his right).

“And a 1-eee, and a 2-eee, and a-!”

“Consider yourself ( _clack-clack_ ) our mate” (“Step ball-change,” Yuuri shouts.)

“We don’t want to have ( _heel-toe_ ) no fuss!” (“ _Stomp_! And back!” Yuri replies.)

“For after some consideration we can state

Consider yourself, ( _heel-toe_ ) one of us!”

“Ok, dance-break time. Ready Viktor?”

“As I’ll ever be!”

 _Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Clackety-clackety-shuffle, shuffle_.

The first part they can do by memory, no problem. Lilia had practically drilled it into them last week. It’s the next section Yuri feels less secure about.

Almost as if he can read minds – or sense Yuri’s insecurity -, Yuuri begins to bark out instructions.

“Hop to the left. Hop to the right. Heel-toe, heel-toe, left grapevine, clap!”

“Good.” Yuuri stops them before the return of the final chorus, assuming the natural role of dance captain. “Viktor, I think you might have stepped forward too early on the-“

“Wow, Yuuri.” Viktor puffs, hands to his knees, as Yuri does the same beside him. “I’ve thought this for a while, but your stamina is really quite incredible.”

Yuri doesn’t want to acknowledge that vaguely dirty statement with an answer. “I need some water,” he mumbles instead, stomping back to his practice bag and smoothie.

Yes, Yuri can tell when boys are flirting and being disgusting at each other. He might be small, but his IQ is off the charts. It is part of the reason he’d rather spend his free time with these pervs than his own cabin.

“Ha, thanks. It must be my ballet training with Minako kicking in,” Yuuri smiles, continuing to shuffle nonchalantly, barely seeming phased by the complicated sequence they had just worked through and the several of hours of additional practice he and Yurio had already completed. Honestly, this teen is a monster, Yuri internally bemoans.

“Tell me about Minako!” Viktor demands, grasping on to this freely offered personal detail, and resting against his bag by the studio’s front wall. Yuri thinks Viktor could at least attempt not to look so desperate.

Yuuri smiles. Talking about other people he can do, no problem. “Well, she’s a family friend. She won the _Prix Benois de la Danse_ a couple of years back and she’s been my ballet teacher since I was little.”

Holy crap. That prize is a big deal. No wonder this kid can dance.

“Do you have a crush on Minako?” Viktor interjects abruptly, completely failing to contain himself and ruining the awed spiral of Yuri’s thoughts.

“Ew! Gross, Viktor! She’s the same age as my mom!”

“Oh, ok. I just wondered, that’s all,” Viktor amends, spinning out in a move that is supposed to appear blasé... until he ends up tripping over his feet in a very un-cool way. Yuri fails to contain his snort.

Well, apparently if Viktor’s going to epically fail at being cool, he might as well go all the way.

“It sounds like a bunch of the other boys in our cabin seem to have found ‘special someones’ this summer. Got anyone on your mind?” From his corner, Yuri gags not so internally.

“N _o comment,_ ” Yuuri mutters, focusing on his tap shoes as his cheeks darken.

Ok, that’s enough of that.

“Oy! LOSERS! Can we stop chit-chatting so we get back to the rehearsal now?!”

Nodding at Yuri sheepishly, the boys resume their formation.

\--

Returning to their cabin after dropping off little Yuri to his frazzled councillor, Viktor and Yuuri are greeted by a virtual explosion of white paper pamphlets.

They litter every available surface, pasted onto the bathroom mirrors, dropped haphazardly two or three to a bed, scattered all over the paneled floor.

Yuuri gingerly reaches for one of the ones on his pillow and reads, out loud, for the benefit of his companion:

          “AUDITION for the Interlochen Arts Academy!

            The Academy is a fine arts boarding high school, offering grades 9-12 as well as a post-graduate year. Aspiring artists from all over the world come to Interlochen to study a variety of art forms, including Comparative Arts, Creative Writing, Dance, Motion Picture Arts, Music, Theatrical Arts, and Visual Arts.

            You Yuuri Katsuki have been selected as a possible candidate for the: Vocal  Music program

            Vocal auditions will be held from July 27 through August 1 at 4pm in Corson auditorium.

            Please contact the Camp Director for further information or to reserve your slot.”

“So, are you going to do it?” Viktor questions, excitedly, grabbing for one of the personalized flyers on his bed. Chris had told him these notices were on their way, and he’d been internally celebrating for days at the possibility of both auditioning and spending more time with his new friends during the school year.

“Probably not,” Yuuri sighs, delicately setting down both the flyer and his practice bag. “Even my sister and I coming to camp from Japan costs my family a lot of money,” Yuuri admits, a little sad and uncomfortable. “They already do so much for me. Plus, I was lucky to get a small scholarship for the summer, but I’m not sure we could afford to pay boarding school tuition.”

“Oh,” Viktor replies, a bit crushed. He’d thought for a moment there might be the possibility of… but no. _But how amazing would it be if he could spend an entire year with Yuuri, instead of 6 measly weeks?_

“Well, what if money wasn’t an issue?” Viktor pushes on, “Would you at least try out, then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know Viktor.” _Is that pinch to his brow a sign that Yuuri is aggravated with him?_ Viktor hopes not. “I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up, or anything.”

“But you’ll never know what could have been if you don’t even try!” Viktor persists.

“Shush, Viktor. Leave the sweet child alone,” Chris demands, jumping off his own bunk and sidling up to a very tense Yuuri to rest his arm just a little lower than is probably appropriate on his hips. _Viktor wishes he could be Chris’ arm right now._

“So, do either of you want to go to dinner?” Viktor asks, hoping to startle Chris off of his impromptu armrest.

Instead, it is Yuuri who moves first, shrugging off Chris with a practiced ease and moving to change by his bunk. As Yuuri slides off his yoga pants, Viktor deliberately (and with great difficulty) averts his eyes.

“Yeah. I just need to visit Mari-Neechan and drop off a letter for her to finish before mailing it to our parents. Postage is expensive, so we try to share.”

A moment later, fully dressed in a pair of uniform-approved navy blue corduroys, Yuuri digs through a pile on his bunk for what appears to be a half-finished letter and a bag of stamps.

“Great! I’ll come with you! I’d love to meet your sister!” Viktor intones, happily.

“No, that’s ok. I need some time to myself right now,” Yuuri replies. “See you at dinner.” Waving lightly, Yuuri exits the cabin.

Oh.

Did his Yuuri actually just brush him off?

“Busted,” Chris intones, with a laugh. “I hope you’re planning to up your game, bud.”

Oh yeah.

Yeah he is.

\--

“Yuuriwillyoucarnivalwithme?”

“I’m sorry, what Viktor?”

Viktor clears his throat, possibly more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life. _Viktor Nikiforov_ is supposed to be as slick as a fox, not a blushing, stuttering mess of a boy unable to string words together. He’d practiced this in the mirror like fifty times already, anticipating the moment Yuuri would return from visiting his sister.

Ok. Inhale. Exhale.

Viktor tries again, this time with deliberate slowness and articulation. He doesn’t want his hurried speech to be the reason this doesn’t work out.

“I’m sorry. What I meant to say was would you, Yuuri Katsuki, like to go to the carnival this weekend? With me?”

“Oh, well it is mandatory, so I figured our cabin would all be going together?”

(Viktor can peripherally make out Phichit’s face-palm and Chris’ repeated eyebrow twitch. Yeah, so this wasn’t going exactly how he thought it would go. Sue him.)

At the sight of Vikor’s face rapidly falling, Yuuri quickly tacks on a “Or did you have something else in mind?”

“I was thinking more like just the two of us?” Viktor returns, “It doesn’t have to be, I don’t know, like _a date_ or anything if you don’t want it to be.”

Behind him, he sees Phichit shaking his head rapidly. Yeah, he wants this to be a date too, but he’s learned that if he pushes too hard for too much, he’ll come away with nothing.

“But,” he continues cautiously, “I thought it could be nice for us to spend some time one-on-one together. Especially since I’m your coach now and all.”

Yuuri releases the breath he’d been holding. Oh, it was just a coach-student thing. Maybe a friend thing. Nothing to worry about.

“Sure! I’d like that!”

“Great!” Viktor beams. Attempting his best John Travolta impersonation, he cocks a hip, mimes slicking back his silver bangs, and growls out a low “So I’ll pick you up at 8?”

Chris rolls his eyes.

Phichit takes a not-so-covert picture to add to his “Viktor doing ridiculous things to impress Yuuri” album.

Yuuri giggles.

Success!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a long one. I'm only now realizing that these chapters just keep on getting longer and longer. 
> 
> Whoops. 
> 
> Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated.
> 
> See you next level at the Carnival. ;-)


	10. Playing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is mid-summer Mardi Gras carnival time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends,
> 
> I'm back with a new chapter of TOTABC. I apologize for the wait, but thank you for your patience and for sticking around while I wade through the quirky quagmires of grad school.
> 
> Please enjoy,
> 
> XO
> 
> -Smiles

“Viktor! Come ooooon! We’re going to be late for the carnival!” Yuuri whines, tapping his sneakered foot impatiently from the center of their cabin.

 All of the others have long left, but of course Viktor is taking _forever_ to get ready.

“I’ll be right there, Yuuri. I’m trying to look my best for you!” his date’s voice echoes from the bathroom stalls at the back.

“You always look your best, Viktor. Stop being ridiculous.”

“Aw! My Yuuri is so sweet!” comes the muffled reply.

“At this rate, the carnival will be over before we ever make it out of here.”

“Ok! Ok! Let’s go!” Viktor proclaims, finally sprinting out of the bathroom, grabbing his red belt off of his mattress, and jamming it impatiently through the belt loops of his navy blue shorts. Today is Sunday, so their shirts are a crisp white instead of the usual light blue.

Viktor’s put on some clear lip balm as well as some mascara, Yuuri notices. But he hasn’t done the latter very well because it is clumping up a bit on the ends of his long lashes. 

Yuuri rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, but moves forward to fix it. He can’t let his celebrity coach go out looking any less than perfect.

Viktor blushes as Yuuri’s slim fingers dab high on his cheekbones, smoothing out the black marks under one eye.

“Thanks, Yuuri. I know I can always count on you.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go now.”

The two boys make their way out of the cabin, towards the tennis courts. They’ve picked up this habit of walking too close, close enough that, if Yuuri was brave enough, he might consider grabbing for the hand that Viktor leaves hanging loosely by his side. But that’s not what they are to each other, so he lets it be and remains content with what they do have.

It is more than he’s ever dreamed possible, so it can be enough. He’ll let it be enough.

At the sight of the transformed tennis court, Yuuri grinds to a stop in amazement.

Where before there had only been empty, lined pavement, a structure basically just for show so that the summer camp could maintain the external appearance of being a summer camp, before them now stretch rows upon rows of game booths manned by counsellors in bright rainbow costumes, blow up bouncy castles, arts and crafts stands, and tables filled with cotton candy, ice cream, and popcorn.

Between and around each activity dart joyful, uniformed children and teens, some with faces painted with hearts or stars or flowers or animals, others with ice cream dribbling down their fingers, and still others in lines to play games or bounce. The speakers overhead blast cheerful carnival music from all directions.

“Wow, Yuuri! This is amazing!” Viktor exclaims, “What should we do first?”

They turn to face one another.  
  
“Definitely cotton candy!” they agree simultaneously.

Surprised by how in-sync they are, they laugh.

\--

This might well be the best day of Viktor’s life and he’s not even sure what part of it he loved most.

If Viktor had to choose, he’d say his favourite memories include watching an overjoyed Yuuri nuzzle into a litter of fuzzy puppies (“Look at this spot, Viktor. It looks like a skull. I’m going to name this one Hamlet!”), or when Yuuri had allowed Viktor to paint his face in rainbows (“Ow! That was my eye!”), or the scandalized look on Yuuri’s face when he had swiped some stubborn cotton candy off of Yuuri’s painted cheek and dropped it directly into his mouth (“I can’t believe you just did that!”) or when he’d let Yuuri beat him in a competition to determine who could keep their hoola hoop highest on their hips for the longest (“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that Viktor! I won fair and square!”) or when his entire cabin had played Wizard’s chess and he’d had the opportunity to smack JJ with a balloon bat (“I said, knight to E4!”).

Honestly, it had all been pretty spectacular.

There’s just one more thing he’d like to do. He’s pretty sure Chris has told him about this one booth where they could…

And yep, there it is. Right between the ‘Fortune Teller’ and the ‘Write Your Parents a Postcard’ booths.

The ‘Love and Marriage' booth.

“Ooh, Yuuri, let’s do this one!” Viktor demands, pulling a confused Yuuri behind him by his sticky forearm.

He manages to block out Yuuri’s hesitant “Are you sure, Viktor? The carnival is about to end.”

There’s only one small flaw in his plan…

“Oh, hi Mari Nee-san. I didn’t know you’d be working here!”

Apparently, the wedding officiate at the ‘Love and Marriage’ booth is Yuuri’s older sister.

Well, this is going to be awkward.

The young Asian woman with short, spiked hair and multiple ear piercings regards them closely from behind the floral booth, surprise and amusement sparkling in her eyes. She and Yuuri share chocolate eye colouring and smile lines, but otherwise the resemblance between the siblings is understated.

The abrupt culmination of a thin coil of smoke curving upwards from behind the table suggests that Mari has stubbed out her contraband cigarette. She figures that wearing a hot pink fuzzy boa to get ‘in the carnival spirit’ has caused her to sacrifice enough of her dignity that she can get away with one or two indiscretions.

Well, Mari might be terrifying but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and Viktor doesn’t plan to let such a little snag stop him from laying claim to the boy of his dreams. 

“Hi Mari. I’ve heard so much about you! I’d like to marry your brother now!”

Both brother and sister turn and gape openly at him.

Ok, so maybe Viktor could have found a smoother way to get his intentions across.

Sue him. Words haven’t always been his strong suit.

“Do I need to give you the shovel talk, Mr. Nikiforov?” Mari asks abruptly, recovering her voice. Oh man, she’s never going to let Yuuri live this one down. His childhood idol has just grabbed his hand as if it were as easy as breathing, though her twelve-year-old brother might be hyperventilating just a little bit.

“No, no Mari! That won’t be necessary!” Yuuri squeaks.

“And you know these marriages are not legally binding in any way, right? That they are just for fun?”

The bored tone of her voice alerts them to the fact that she is now reading off of the list of rules and reminders taped to the table from the powers-that-be. The camp staff must know that they’ll be a list of all-too-real legal complaints from disgruntled parents and guardians if they don’t issue these kinds of warnings to children in advance of them proclaiming their undying love and devotion to one another.

“Ok, you both seriously want to do this?” Mari questions, side-eyeing her slightly hysterical brother.

Viktor bobs his head eagerly. Yuuri, wide-eyed and a tad petrified, offers a slight nod of his own.

That will need to do. Her shift is almost up, anyway. She’s also kind of glad she didn’t miss this.

“Ok, guys. Choose your pipe-cleaner rings. I don’t have all day.”

Viktor immediately reaches for an indigo ring for Yuuri, since Yuuri had disclosed that all kinds of blue are his favourite colour when quizzed about it a few days ago.

Yuuri hesitantly reaches towards a yellow ring in an imitation of gold (Viktor’s favourite), but instead, his fingers close around a regal-looking red ring at the last second. He hopes Viktor likes it.

“Mr. Viktor Nikiforov, do you take my brother and your new friend Mr. Yuuri Katsuki to be your unlawfully-wedded camp husband?”

“I do!” Viktor shouts way too enthusiastically. Two brunettes look up from writing their postcards at the neighbouring booth and eye them curiously. 

“And Mr. Yuuri Katsuki, do you take Mr. Viktor Nikiforov, your long-time idol and new friend, to be your unlawfully-wedded camp husband also?”

“Ohmygodyeah.”

“Then, by the powers vested in me by Camp Interlochen, W.A. Mozart’s Freemasons, and the Rainbow Center, I hereby pronounce you not-husband and not-husband. You may … -er, shake hands or something? Hug? I don’t know? The rules don’t tell me what I’m supposed to tell you to do. Just keep it classy. And PG-13.”

Yuuri looks up at Viktor, eyes reflecting abject terror. What does Viktor want him to do now?

Viktor, oblivious because his fantasy of actually marrying Yuuri is playing behind his closed eyelids, leans down towards Yuuri for the dreaded kiss.

…At the last possible second, Yuuri turns and Viktor’s lips meet his rosy cheeks with a loud ‘smack.’

“Wow. Did _not_ need to ever see my brother do that.” 

Viktor opens his eyes to a crowd – Chris, Phichit, and a begrudging Yurio – cheering from the sidelines. Well, Yurio is more grumping, but the intended effect is clear.

“Finally!”

“Congrats, my loves!”

“Uch. Does this mean you’ll stop being gross in rehearsal now?”

Viktor hopes that their real marriage is like this, someday.

Phichit shrieks and, from behind the booth, Mari leaps to her feet.

Viktor turns back to his new camp un-husband, just in time to catch him in a dip as he passes flat out.

\--

Yuuri comes to back in his cabin.

It would be concerningly quiet if not for Phichit’s off-key humming and the scratch-scratch of his pencil moving quickly across construction paper.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

“What happened?”

“Well, you married the love of your life, your childhood idol, Viktor Nikiforov at the super gayest of gay Mardi Gras carnivals and then you passed out when he tried to seal the deal with true love’s kiss. It was a little backward from how they tell it in the fairy tales, but you get the-”

“I didn’t mean that _literally,_ Phi. I know what happened. God, that was so embarrassing! And in front of my sister, too!”

“Ah, well, what’s young love without a bit of adversity?” Phi sighs.

“Where is everyone, Phi?” Yuuri moans, hand to his head to keep the world from tilting on its axis. He hadn’t realized that fainting could take so much out of a person.

“They’re at dinner,” Phichit answers quickly. Keeping as straight a face as possible, he adds, “But don’t worry. Your new _husband_ is going to bring you a sandwich.”

“Shut up, Peaches!”

“You mean ‘I love you, Peaches', right Yuuri?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up with Comments or Kudos! You keep me going. We are nearly there, now. 
> 
> :)


	11. Preparing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As final performance season dawns, the performers must confront new challenges and come out stronger together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there,
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience with me. I am so sorry that it has been nearly a month since I last posted a chapter of this story. Grad school is kicking my butt. Hope you are still along for the ride! 
> 
> For Chapter Warning/Spoiler, see End Notes.

Week five has dawned, and with it, the campers have officially hit dress rehearsal and final performance time.

And with finals, comes major all out panic.

Even those who aren’t in the musical or reparatory theatre programs are on edge, because the performers camp-wide are oozing such disgustingly high levels of tension that they might as well be contagious.

It is at the end of dance rehearsal mid-week that everything comes to a head.

“What do you mean I won’t get to play Oliver for any of the final performances?” demands a very angry Yuri Plisetsky.

He looks akin to a cat whose just been unpleasantly surprised by the dumping of a large bucket of water over its head, thinks Yuuri. And for good reason.

“I mean exactly what it sounds like, young man,” replied a deadly calm Lilia. “You are, technically-speaking, only a junior, and thus _not eligible_ to perform as Oliver in the intermediate production. Your casting was a chance to hone your abilities, learn a role to completion, and shadow a talented peer. I apologize if this was, at any time, unclear to you.”

To everyone’s surprise, the little song tiger breaks. Tears rapidly begin to bead in his wide green eyes. His lower lip trembles minutely until, unable to contain himself, he starts to violently sob.

“I hate this place!” the teary blond boy yells, dropping all of his belongings and bodily fleeing from the room. Shooting a quick apologetic glance at Yuuri, Viktor follows after Yurio.

An oppressive moment of silence settles over the studio.

Though it is probably the thing he likes to do least in the entire world, Yuuri decides he needs to intervene. He can’t just stand by while he colleague gets treated so unfairly. And in front of the entire cast, too!

“Surely, you can reconsider, Madame?” Yuuri begins cautiously. “After all, it doesn’t seem fair! Yuri worked just as hard as I did to learn the lead and you never told us that I would be the only one performing Oliver in the final shows.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Katsuki, but this is camp policy.”

“Well then, camp policy sucks!”

As one, all of the campers turn, slack jawed, to stare at the one who had spoken.

And it wasn’t Yuuri.

It was JJ.

“What are you looking at me like that for? I’m not a monster! We’ve all seen how much work Yurio put in and it wouldn’t be right not to give him a chance to mess up where everyone can see.”

“Oh JJ! You do care! That’s what I’ve been waiting to see from you all summer!” With a whirl of long brown hair and soft limbs, Isabella joyfully throws herself into JJ’s arms.

With the girl of his dreams hugging him of her own volition for the first time, JJ nearly goes into shock right then and there. Mouth gaping, he barely gets out his “That’s JJ-style!” before dissolving into a mushy pile of goo and burying his face in the lengths of Isabella’s long, sweet-smelling hair.

Momentarily distracted by the amorous display, the rest of the campers calm their giggles but nod in agreement at JJ’s words. Lilia eyes them all, contemplating.

“Hmm. This is unlike you, JJ, to advocate so strongly for another camper. Give us directors a moment to speak alone, and we’ll come to an agreement.”

As Lilia strolls off to debrief with Georgi and Lilia, the whole _Oliver!_ cast waits with baited breath. A pin drop could unsettle the room.

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Flanked by Georgi and Ketty, Lilia steps forward. Her stern gaze reveals nothing.

JJ clutches Isabella to his chest with something like terror.

Mila and Sarah snap up from their side-by-side splits on the floor.

Yuuri hops from foot to foot in his ballet flats apprehensively.

Lilia speaks.

“We’ve decided that Mr. Yuuri Katsuki will play the role of Oliver in the Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday evening performances, while Mr. Yuri Plisetsky will cover the role during the Friday evening and Sunday matinee performances. We trust you will be pleased with our decision.”

Just then, the studio door opens and a teary-eyed, red-faced Yuri stumbles in, followed closely behind by Viktor.

As one, the cast lets out a giant cheer and begins to clap, thrilled at the return of their younger protagonist.

Yuri smiles, unguarded, speechless.

\--

The celebration of Yuri’s triumph spread quickly, as musical theatre nerds tell their vocal and ballet friends, who tell their orchestra performance friends, who tell their art, creative writing, film, and radio friends. By the time they’ve been released from rehearsal – half an hour earlier than planned, because once they’d started to go off the rails and started belting Disney medleys, there was no stopping them – Yuri’s hand had been pumped, his fist knocked, and his palm high-fived more times than he’d ever been privy to in his relatively short life.

The festivities ramp up over dinner, with a furiously blushing Minami shyly dropping off a large piece of chocolate cake once dessert has been set up, and Yuri’s Grandpa Nikolai stopping by to offer his grandson some soft words of encouragement before re-joining the councillor and adult tables.

Though they’d never been formerly introduced before, Nikolai winked at Yuuri on his way… perhaps he had more people on his side than he’d ever realized before.

Just as Yuri was digging into his gifted chocolately goodness, his least favourite colleague decides to make an obnoxious appearance.

Since Yuuri had informed him over nachos that the jerk had apparently stood up for Yuri once he’d left the room, he decided he would at least _attempt_ to be civil. Even it was a terribly, awfully hard thing to do.

“Hey princess?”

“Yes, your ass-jesty.” Yuri replies, without batting an eyelash. What? He didn't say he'd be _good_ at being nice.

“Wow… that’s not bad actually.”

Losing what miniscule amounts of patience he possesses, Yuri decides to just get them to the point. This is interfering with the intriguing conversation he’d just been having with Beka about high school classes and heavy metal recs. Also, with the eating of his chocolate cake.

“What do you want, JJ?”

“Look, our cabin has a thing planned for tonight around midnight, and since you’re basically like our annoying little brother, I wanted to extend the invitation.”

Yuri’s eyebrows crinkle and his nose scrunches in disbelief.

“How do I know you aren’t screwing with me just to get me in trouble for going out after hours?” he inquires, turning back to nudge at his cake. He isn't going to get in hot water because of stupid JJ.

“I swear I’m not fucking with you. It is actually happening.” At Yuri’s disbelieving expression, JJ sighs and rubs his face hard in frustration. “Look, if you don’t believe me, talk to Chris. He’s the one who planned it.” As if by magic, JJ pulls Chris to his side out of thin air.

“I’m trying to invite the kid to the thing tonight like Viktor suggested, but he thinks I’m messing with him. Can you do it?”

Chris just smirks and cocks his hip knowingly.

“Yuri, how do you feel about a bit of camp property… reallocation?”

\--

“Shhh!!! Come on!!!” Chris whisper-demands, running out of their cabin with his flashlight held aloft. Surprisingly, he’s wearing a roll of toilet paper on his arm like a giant bangle.

“What are we doing? What is with you and Viktor and the middle of the night?” grumps Yuuri. Though he isn’t looking forward to the summer’s inevitable end, he’ll be glad to get some solid sleep when he gets home. 

Chris giggles and speed-walks faster, “That’s kind of the point. Hurry up back there, Ji and Leo!”

“We’re fulfilling a camp tradition, _zvezda_. It is supposed to bring us good luck for the musical. And everybody does it, apparently!” Viktor continues, filling in where Chris left off.

“But what is it that we’re doing?” Yuuri asks, wearily. He knows that his new friends are easily side-tracked and he won’t actually get any answers if he doesn’t thoroughly demand them. 

“Why, we’ll be peeing on the bear statue, of course!”

“Ok. So we’ll be peeing on the- WHAT?!!” squawks Yuuri, breaking suddenly and nearly sending Seung-Gil and Phichit sprawling to the ground in an effort to avoid smashing into him. “Why in God’s name would we do that?!”

“SHHHHHH!!!! You’re going to get us all caught! Besides, Viktor already told you. It is for good luck. It is an ancient camp tradition.”

“Ew! That is _so_ nasty!”

“Well, you can always chicken out and just rub its nose, but this is _way_ more fun!”

“Why are we friends, Peaches?”

“Because you love me, obvi.”

“Hey! Not fair! I want Yuuri to love me too!”

“Oh shush, you big baby. You’ve already un-married the guy!”

“Ok. We’re here. Shut up, everyone. This is it!” Chris whispers, as they reach a clearing with a giant metal bear statue at its center. “Now, everybody join hands around the statue!" 

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Be quiet, Yuri!”

“Now,” Chris clears his throat auspiciously, willing his cabin mates into silence and holding his hands aloft as if to offer a prayer, “We gather here tonight to fulfil a mission passed down from the greats which--.”

“Which greats?” JJ interrupts abruptly.

“I donno. Like, Norah Jones and Josh Groban and stuff. May I continue, King JJ?” Chris asks silkily.

“Huff.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So, we are gathered here tonight to fulfil a mission passed down from the greats, which will undoubtedly bring us joy and comfort and luck in all of our endeavours. Kapish?”

“Catfish!” they resounded in unison. 

“Ok, so Yuuri and Phichit, you go first and the rest of us will keep watch. Then we’ll trade off. And here’s _Charmin Ultra Soft_ , for your wiping pleasure.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Yuuri huffs, handing Viktor his flashlight and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Go Yuuri!”

“Are you really cheering on my public peeing right now?”

“Um.”

“You are such a dork. I can’t believe I ever thought of you as my untouchable idol.”

“ _So mean_ , Yuuri.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for questionable teen decision-making and public peeing (but all in the name of cabin bonding, camp spirit, and fidelity to Interlochen tradition!) 
> 
> All comments/kudos/shares/feedback/bookmarks/interpretive dances appreciated. Also, when the inspiration struck, I started a new baker AU. If that is something you might like to read, go take a look.


	12. Shining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready? Set? Show Time!

The morning of _Oliver_ ’s final dress rehearsal finds Yuuri having come full circle… with his head back between his knees on the floor of a dusty practice room, struggling to take in oxygen.

 

Viktor, finally having learned just how close he can be to his camp-husband at any given time without being flung off or spontaneously escaped from, simply sits beside him, whispering sweet nothings against his cheeks and rubbing Yuuri’s back soothingly.

 

Viktor knows without a shadow of a doubt that it has never been a question of Yuuri’s talent. Talent is something Yuuri possesses in such heaping extremes that it is almost nauseating and downright jealousy-inducing to constantly be around.

 

No, it has always been about Yuuri’s confidence.

 

Or rather, his lack of it.

 

As the discordant sounds of the intermediate orchestra tuning up in the pit overlap with Celestino twittering away at the bassoon section in Italian, Yuuri turns towards Viktor, cautiously.

 

“I- I don’t think I can do this!” he admits, fighting off a grimace.

 

Viktor simply sighs. They’ve been here before. So many times.

 

“Look, Yuuri, you’ve run every line, danced every step, and practiced _so hard_. You’re going to be incredible!”

 

“But I- I don’t think this is something I’ll ever be ready for. The whole camp is going to be out there! And my parents!” Yuuri gasps out,  “Oh god, Viktor, even Minako is flying in! What if I embarrass myself so badly that I humiliate her and then no student in Hasetsu ever takes a dance lesson again and then her studio goes under and then I lose my practice spot! Or what if I trip you during our number? Oh no, oh God, oh-“

 

“That’s enough Yuuri!” Viktor cuts in harshly. Sometimes, a bit of callousness is the only way to get through to him when he gets like this.

 

At Viktor’s tone, crocodile tears begin to spatter down Yuuri’s face. Cursing himself internally while taking a brief moment to silently thank Phichit for using waterproof mascara and foundation on their lead, Viktor removes his hands from around Yuuri and squares his shoulders.

 

Well, he’s never had to offer something like this before, but its really not like he’s _that_ opposed if it will make Yuuri feel better.

 

“Yuuri, I’m not good with people crying in front of me. Should I just ... kiss you, or something?”

 

“NO!” Yuuri yells, with more surety than Viktor has ever heard from him before. “Just have more faith in me succeeding than I do!”

 

“Ok,” Viktor replies, projecting an aura of calm that he doesn’t feel. “Of course I will. I’ve never had anything but faith in you.”

 

As Viktor pulls Yuuri into a firm, reassuring hug, the least desirable cast and cabin member rounds the proscenium curtains with a swagger in his step.

 

Popping his hip, and crossing his arms with a “hurrumph”, JJ looks down at Yuuri and Viktor, unimpressed.

 

“Can the two of you can it with the gay stuff, for say, five minutes?”

 

Surprisingly, his question is met by not only by two but three sharp intakes of breath.

 

“Excuse you, young man. Did you just say what I think you said?”

 

“Momma!” JJ yelps, beginning to sweat profusely at the sight of his very angry mother towering over him, appearing seemingly from thin air.

 

Hands on her hips, she glares down at her son in that way only disappointed parents can.

 

“I- I didn’t see you there!”

 

“Shame on you, JJ. I thought your father and I taught you to be better than that. We’re going to talk about this. Come with me, _right now_!”

 

Though dressed in full costume – bonnet included - for their final complete run-through, Natalie Leroy is no less terrifying to her son or his cabin mates. Lightening crackles in her blue eyes.

 

Her dark expression only softens slightly when she catches sight of Yuuri and Viktor clutching each other’s hands in shock. They remain open-mouthed, watching this unexpected intervention unfold. Even Yuuri’s tears have been startled right off.

 

“Take care, you two!” Mrs. Leroy tosses out casually, as she drags her son by his ear out of the vicinity. Viktor presumes they’ll be having a nice long chat about homophobia, judgement, and Canadian manners.

 

Serves him right, Viktor thinks vindictively. That’ll teach him to mess with his Yuuri.

 

His Yuuri.

 

Viktor smiles to himself softly. He wonders when making that claim became so natural, so clear to him.

 

Hurrumph. Well, one step forward and two steps back with JJ, as they say. As Viktor’s mom always assures him, hopefully with the right role models, JJ will grow out of it.

 

“This is your five minute warning, your five minute warning. Places, everyone!” Lilia’s stern voice booms out over the theatre intercom, prompting Yuuri to jump lightly to his feet, and pull Viktor along with him.

 

Viktor turns his friend so that he can look him in the eyes one last time.

 

“This is it, Yuuri! Your big moment! I’m so proud of you, and I’m so glad to have met you! You can do this.”

 

“I know I can, thanks to you.”

 

\---

 

All five shows go by in the blink of an eye.

 

One minute, Yuuri is asking “Please sir, may I have some more?” and the next, he is ‘accidentally’ waltzing into Viktor’s arms, after having nearly been caught thieving. Their short-lived contact might cause Viktor’s heart to clench - just a little bit.

 

And at each moment, it hits Yuuri. Cristal clear. Whether he’s playing the lead or the sidekick or in the chorus, or watching his friends do so.

 

This is it. Under hot stage lights, with all eyes on him…

 

This is where he belongs.

 

\---

 

“Catch, piggy!”

 

The thump of a slightly soggy brown paper bag into Yuuri’s outstretched arms catches him off-guard, causing him to topple to the ground. Considering the state of his exhausted reflexes post-show weekend, Yuuri’s pleasantly surprised that he managed to catch the parcel at all.

 

From the grass, Yuuri looks up at his smaller companion in shock. “What’s this, Yurio?”

 

“You’ll see. Just open it,” he grumbles.

 

Yuuri, saying nothing, reaches into the brown paper bag and pulls out a hefty dumpling. These must be the piroshky Yuri had so lovingly been talking about over lunch that day at Bud’s.

 

“So, are you going to try one already?” Yuri demands sullenly.

 

With a glance at the pre-tween, who is watching him intently, Yuuri bites into the brown pastry.

 

Oh.

 

This is good.

 

 _Really_ good.

 

It even tastes kind of familiar, in a way.

 

“Wait, Yurio, what is this? No, I mean what is _in_ this?”

 

“They’re Katsudon piroshky!” the boy explains excitedly, an entirely foreign expression of delight highlighting his youthful features, almost without him realizing it. “My deduska co-opted the kitchen and made them for you.”

 

“But…why?” Yuuri asks, shocked that someone would go through all that trouble for him.

 

“You already know, Katsudon. Are you gonna make me say it?”

 

At Yuuri’s quizzical head tilt, Yuri concedes, “I really appreciated what you did for me, asking them to give me a chance like that. To play the lead, I mean. So, just, thanks ok?” Yuri finishes, trailing off awkwardly.

 

“It was nothing,” Yuuri replies immediately. “You worked so hard and you deserved it. Besides, you would have done the same for me.”

 

“Ok, no need to be gross. Let’s go back to your cabin and clean off this disgusting makeup.”

 

“Ok,” Yuuri replies, smiling easily, and clambering to his feet.

 

Huh. They might even be friends now, him and the angry kitten. Isn’t that something?

 

As the sky quickly darkens, the boys fall into step beside one another and settle into a comfortable silence.

 

“It was me, you know,” Yuri says suddenly, knocking Yuuri out of his swirling thoughts.

 

“Wh-what was you?”

 

“I went to Celestino about JJ. In week two. It wasn’t fair, what he was doing to you. And Viktor too,” Yuri explains, pulling at his uniform shirt in obvious discomfort.

 

This time, it is Yuuri who makes the first move. Dropping his bag of piroshky, he drags Yuri to a stop, spinning him around so that he can look him in the eyes.

 

“Thank you, Yuri. Really. I didn’t think it would ever stop,” Yuuri admits.

 

“Yeah, well, someone had to do something. And just because I’m little, doesn’t mean I don’t know wrong from right when I see it,” Yuri huffs, kicking up a small mound of dirt with his sneakers in mimicry of a jazz shuffle. “I may look easy pickings, but I’ve got some bite.”

 

…

 

…

 

“ _Les Miserables_? Really Yuri?”

 

“Just shut up, stuff your face, and keep walking, piggy.”

 

\---

 

The final day dawns much sooner than any of the campers would like.

 

The boys of Cabin 13 (and Yuri) wake up in a heap on the wooden floor to Leo’s obnoxious bugle calls resonating through the morning air.

 

Though all their duffle bags, knapsacks, and suitcases are packed to return home to all corners of the world, they’ve left out an array of sleeping bags and blankets and snacks.

 

Blinking to wakefulness, Viktor leans across a handholding Leo and Ji to wipe a splotch of purple paste from the previous night’s unit goodbye paint war off of Yuuri’s left cheek.

 

Viktor can still feel the dried tears clinging to his own eyelashes from their mega cry-bye session last night.

 

He’s just not ready to go home yet.

 

This time, he doesn’t have to do much more to wake up his new friend. Yuuri’s eyes instantly flutter at Viktor’s touch. He leans towards him, seeking out Viktor’s warmth.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers. “I’m going to miss you. So much.”

 

“Hush. None of that now. We’ve still got _Les Preludes_ before it is really over.”

 

“Promise you’ll stay with me? I mean, sit with me at the concert?” Yuuri hedges, after all this time, somehow still unsure.

 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

 

\--

 

Chris and the other dance majors take their final bows, as the final peals of Liszt’s _Les Preludes_ resound in the air and the audience leaps to their feet in rambunctious applause.

 

The end is here. Their time has come.

 

Viktor blinks back tears of his own. He’s going to miss this quirky, artsy place more than he can possibly verbalize.

 

He silently vows not to let this summer be the last time he visits.

 

“Yuuri, this is for you,” Viktor says, handing Yuuri a bundle of carefully folded paper. “A plane letter and my contact info. Promise you’ll keep in touch?”

 

“W-wow,” Yuuri gapes, almost fish-like. “I have Viktor Nikiforov’s contact info!” he shouts giddily to the sky, slipping back into his fan boy phase to his own utter mortification a split second later, as he processes what he has done and turns an ugly shade of puce.

 

Viktor can practically hear Mari fondly rolling her eyes at them, from her spot a row away.

 

“Yes, you do. So make sure to use it please. I love surprises and snail mail! And besides, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if I never get to speak to you again.”

 

Before he can finish his thought, the warm arms of his new best friend have encircled his neck. He clings on tightly, a couple of tears escaping against his will, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t cry.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri squeaks through a fresh round of his own tears, as members of the audience begin to rise and noisily depart the amphitheatre. “I don’t know what the school system is like in LA, but when you have a break, maybe you could come visit? My family owns a hot springs resort in Japan. So please come!”

 

At Yuuri’s heartfelt entreaty, Viktor can practically feel his chest expanding, stretching, to accommodate all of what he is feeling.

 

And only now, at the moment of departure, does he finally understand.

 

Why they call everything at camp love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A video from the year I first attended Les Preludes at Interlochen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y56vL5mW2FI
> 
> Well, it looks like we've almost made it to the end! Only the epilogue left to go! 
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you who have been commenting and following along on this, my first (lengthy) fanfic journey. 
> 
> <3
> 
> Not sure if they'll even read this, but officially dedicating this fanfic to magicranberries, the wonder human who introduced me to both AO3 and Yuri!!! On Ice about a year ago... also, only doing so now because they don't like to read incomplete fics. Love you always!


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